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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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Le^e^ Fi^O]vr I'l^lE Life of 




PORTLAND 

HOYT, FOGG & DONHAM 

1886 






COPYRIGHTED BY 

IIOYT, For.O & DONUAM, 

188.5. 



B. TlICRSTON & Co., 
Printers and Stereotypvra, 

PORTLAND, ME. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER PAGE 

I. TiiK Cat. . . . .5 

II. Anotiieu Pokm. ... 17 1^ 

TIio Extinguisher. Tlio Adjective. - ^ ] 

III. An Unconkkssed Poet. . . 25 

Acorn Planting. 

IV. A Snow-Stokm. . . .31 

Snowed In. Shovelling Snow. Song of 
the Season. 
V. Acf'EPTiNG A Situation. . . 43 

VI. The iAFousE Tkap. ... 48 

VII. A C-iiuisTMAS Present. . . 57 

Vm. The Fihst Tkian<;ular. . . 70 

The Deiweiit Ducks. The Cockroach. 
How Strange it will be. Ishmael 
l5ay. A Caged Lion. The Last 
Voyiige. 
IX. Typogkai'iiical Errors. . . 95 

X. The Second 'J'ri angular. . 103 

A Dear Loncsoino Day. Winter Time, 
Old-Fashioned Flowers. Grandmoth- 
er's Garden. Old Koses. Bed Time. 
XI. The Man who was Happy. . .120 

XII. The Third "J^riangular. . . 135 

Eyes. Afterward. Poetical Patchwork. 
To the Moon. Dr. McGee. 

XIII. Parson Smith's Uiis. . . . 144 

A Pewter Tankard. 

XIV. The Door-Mat Man. . . 151 

The Blind Man's Wife. 
XV. The Fourth Triangular. . .156 

A Cavalry Private. A Hero in a Good 
Cause. Wliat is it? Little Lone- 
some. Knitting Work. A Modern 
Minstrel. 

3 



CONTENTS. 



CIIAl'TEU 

XVI. 

XVIT. 

XVIIT. 
XIX. 



XX. 

XXI. 

XXII. 



XXIII. 

XXIV. 

XXV. 



XXVI. 
XXVII. 

XXVTTI. 
X .\ I X. 

XXX. 

XXXI. 
XXXII. 

XXXIIL 
XXXIVo 



A Rainy Day. 

A Wft Week. A bocember Night. 
LooKiN«i Over thk Wall. . 

Fossoml en's G a rdcn . 
John, tiik Fly. 
TiiK FiFrn Tkianiutlar. 

Little FriiMiils. Tlio Maby's Smile. A 
Country Soliool-IInuso. Tiio Suu- 
shinc Song. A JMoonlight Excur- 
sion. To I'asco Bay. 
The Mince Pie. . 
The TiiAMT. . . . . 

The Sixrii Tiuancular. 

A Ui'bus. llauntod llousoa. "Wounded. 
A Demolished Homestead. Jl(>r An- 
swer. He eamo Too Lato. Solemn 
New Knjiland 
Neveu White Verses. 

Wrilinji' to Order. 
Broken Bones. 

The Faet and the Report. 
The Seventh Trianculau. . 

Mnnjoy Hill. The Colorado Potato 
lUifJC. Afterglow. Madge Miller. 
To-morrow. 
Trouhle AviTH Type. 
In the Garden. 

Morning Glories. 
The IMalujnep (.'oimpositor. 
The KuiHTH Triangular. 

Liz/io- l>ertie. CJraeie with the Gold- 
en Hair. Ned. Winnie. 
Creeping Things. 

The Span-worm. TheCatei-pillar. 
Envy and Amhition. 
A I'lumbers' IIe(M':ption. 

A Familiar Aequaintauce. 
COLEUS. . . , . 

A Faitheul Friend. 

Toby. 
A Pkuiod. . - . . 



PAOE 

179 

185 

189 
198 



213 
2l»5 
281 



254 
2G8 
274 

292 
307 

319 
328 

340 

347 
350 

358 
304 

381 



THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 



I. 

THE CAT. 



Till!; family had a cat. Not tliat tliis is any special 
distinction — almost every family lias a cat. To some 
families cats are born, some achieve cats, and some 
have cats thrust upon thein. Among the latter may 
be reckoned the amiable household of which these 
pages are a fragmentary and imperfect record, or, 
more correctly, a string of sketches, making small 
cLaim to chronological order, or consecutivcness of 
dates or doings. 'J'hcir cat, alas, came to them, as, 
indeed, one time and another, did many a friendless 
and desperate animal of the genus. Households 
made up prin(!li)ally of tender-hearted women and 
children, households wherein the masculine clement is 
cither uimsually amiable, or altogether absent, are 
generally besieged by tramps of all descri])tions, 
human and feline. 

And here arises a question — where do all the 
vagrant, homeless cats come from? Almost every- 
body drowns the superfluous kittens whi(;h an inscru- 

5 



6 TIIF, TKIANtniLAU KOCIKTY. 

liiLlo f:vto from liiiu> to iune iidds lo I he r.'unily cirdoj 
siliuost ovory 1):V(1 boy Ht.oncs and kills v\'{.'vy cut lie 
BOOS ; ill! Uw \v:isl(> places and open tu'llars wliich 
mark tlio sites wliere houses lia\e been biiniod, aro 
lialf I'lill of dead cats in various patlictio attitudes ; 
and \l rcMuains a marvel lo every rell(>elin<j; mind, 
Avhenee come tlu* eats, all more; or less S(\'im])isli-lo()k- 
iuj;", gaunt, and disreputable, which are always sne:dcin<if 
and snoopini;' around back doors, siltinu^ nu'Ianeholy, 
<lin<>y, and linm;i-y, on roofs and fences, or j^iving 
sonjjfs in the nii^ht lo an audicnci^ of sl(H'])y and 
ungrateful di-ad-heads ? 

To this innunu'rablo company of unpaid inusicians, 
originally belonged tlu^ cat which in tho fullness of 
lime in\ aded this pre\ iously liappy liousohold. No- 
body ever (piitc knew how the eat got imbedded in 
the family. Once or twice she had been seen sitting 
forU)rn on tlu> doorstt>p, with her hands in her muff, 
looking up at the windows, with an injured expri'ssiou 
of counti'iuinee, (wliieh, being remarki'd upon, was at 
oni'c accounted for by Hobby, the terribli^ infant of 
the family, w ho suggeslt'd that it had been injured in 
a light,) and when the di)or was opened, suddenly 
<larting away, and ]>retending slu' had been kicked. 
The next anyltody knew, shi> was installed in tho 
cosii'st corner of tlu' si(ling-roi)m lounge, and declared 
l)y Bobby, who at ont-e assumed pro})rietorshij>, to bo 
uncommonly particular about her eating. 

After sonic faint opi)Osilion, lioband tluu^at carried 
the day. IVremptory orders were issued, however, 



'I" UK CAT. 7 

tli.'it if l\\o. cni w.'is to }>•; ;i inonlx-r of tin; IiouhcIioIiI, 
slio muKl I'oilliwiUi \v;i.h1i IIk! dust <»i' travel i'rotii li<;r 
sooty :u)(] l>(;;^riinc<] ]>c!rHon, aixl conduct iK.TKclf lik(j a 
rcHj»ectJihl<i fainily aii. SIk; iiiUHt (ionfonri to tlio 
"whoIc'HOKK.' ruIt'H aixl nUtuAy liahitH of tin; (!Htal>liHh- 
riumt; hIic. jniist confiiM! Iirtrwlf to ilwcc rogular iricalH 
a <lay ; iiiuHt content liorHoIf with tiic rango of tlio 
liouHO and wood-slui'l, give uj) Hcraml)Iing over fenci^s 
and )-idge-j)ol(!S willi va;^rant eonipiuiions, and Hlcep 
regularly in a barrel, on Home Hoft Htravv, '-ovc-red with 
a ]jiece of <%'ir|)et. No nion; o|)(!n-air (tonecTts, no 
inon; vag;i)>on<liHli asHoeiatcH. 'I'o these! f;onditionH 
the cat agreed. I'.iit liow did HJie kcicj) li(!r jtronjiHCH? 

Nobody was mercenary enough at the tiirx;, to try 
to drive a KJiar)) ]>argaiii with tlie cringing, half-Htarved 
crcatun?, and ho Tiobody Huggented as a (condition of her 
adoption, that hhe KJiould rout the innurn<!ra}>le com- 
pany of mice which held nightly daM<;ing-KchoolH in 
the walls :i,nd cciiling of tin; ar)ti'juat(Ml (Iwelling. 
Aird it was just as well that this was not mentioned, 
ftince noljody i-vcr had any ns'ison to Hiippose that the 
<;at would liave known a jiioiis*; liad nlie rr)et it, nnlcHS 
Hom('ljody had b(!(;n by to jxirforni th(! c(;remony of 
introduction. As for cleanliness, she so seldom washed 
lier face or liands, that when, at long intervals, she set 
awkwardly about it, the whole household was Hura- 
moned to witness the operation, wliich, from its unus- 
ualness, always gave her a col I i i h(;r head, so that 
she went abr)nt siieozing, all the next day or two, 

Uj) to the time wlien the cat was add(;d, it had been 



8 THE TRIANGULAK SOCIETY. 

a united and comfortable family, the mother, and Bru- 
nette and Bob; all with ideas of their own, to be 
sm-c, and all inclined to think her or his own idea the 
very one to be acted on in any 2)resent case. Bnt on 
the whole, they agreed jn-etty well, and had rather a 
pleasant life of it — mrtil the cat came. 

Alas the day ! It was fonnd out before long that 
they had all along been happier than they knew. It 
had been possible to go down stairs without being 
tripped lip by a cat's tail ; to leave the doors open a 
moment without afterward finding a coal-smutted quad- 
ruped asleep on the clean white jiillows, or everything 
in the pantry dragged off tlie ])lates and mussed 
around the floor ; to leave the dinner-table for a 
moment unguarded, without risk of loss, or a gravy- 
deluged table-cloth. But after the cat came, all this 
was changed. Nobody ever went down stairs again 
without a stumble and a wrestle, a spasmodic grasp- 
ing at the balusters and much disjointed exclamation, 
which, though it certainly was not swearing, surely- 
had some most blasphemous inflections. Nobody ever 
left a door open after that, without at once discover- 
ing that cat either in the milk-pitcher, the butter-jjlate, 
the water-pail, or the best bed ; nobody ever went out 
without letting her in, or in, without letting her out. 
Every garment, cushion, chair, and lounge in the house 
was furred with cat's hairs. Somebody was always 
washing up grease-spots, or sweeping up crumbs, or 
opening doors, or scolding or frettiug, or getting np 
too early, or going to bed too late, because of that 



THE CAT. 9 

cat. Slio was a,] ways getting under chair-rockerH, or 
Boincbody's feet, or the treadle of tlic sewing-macliine ; 
even the stove-oven door must Le studiously kept 
shut, to prevent lier from going in and baking 
lierself to deatli. .Slie was always hungrily besieging 
the pantry, or thirstily apostrophizing the pump ; 
always missing wlien she was wanted, and on hand 
when she was not. She was ))retty sure to bo 
in the sitting-room if a caller was announced; and 
she would frequently astonish an unsuspecting i)arty 
by getting under the open-work bamboo cliair ia 
which he was sitting, and clawing at the seat with all 
lier might, under ])retence of sharpening lier claws, — ■ 
a ])rocess never altogether agreeable to the sitter, who 
generally betrayed her l)y bouncing from the chair 
and choosing one with a more solid basis. If she was 
busy with worse mischief in the kitchen, so as to be 
quite unable to meet visitors in the parlor, they were 
often reminded of her by the sight of a chickcn-bono 
on the key-board of the piano, or a cold buckwheat- 
cake on the sofa-cushion. 

While she was a ]»ilgrim and a stranger outside the 
house, she was dying to get in ; as soon as she was 
established inside, she was perishing to get out. Every 
departing visitor who found her meekly waiting at the 
street-door, called lier " poor pussy," and obligingly let 
her out ; and then Bobby cried, and dug his knuckles 
into his eyes — lie was younger then than afterward^ 
and rubbed his nose to a fine polish until the truant 
was reclaimed. This task was only accomplished by 
1* 



10 



TIIK TIMANOULAU SOOnCTY. 



poino Olio stniidiiiL;" .'it, tlu> open door, Miid, with n, 
vacant and iircoccnpicd :iii-, srrapini;' away for dear 
life with a knifes in a tin pan. 'I^hc cat was not liun- 
gry ; but, reversion, natural sehH-lion, or the survival 
of the fittest, h'll lier (o swarm toward llio sound (^f 
scrapiiiLi^; and by I lie tiiiu^ everyliody's teeth were well 
on edge, slie would eoine bounding in, like a belated 
tireinan at a eonllagration. ll is needless to say that 
all the tin ware in the housi' was bi'I'ore long scraped 
(h)wn to hard pan. 

That eat became tlu> bane of the family, the staple 
of discontented converse. l^^veii the mother, wlio 
dotes on dumb things, and deities JMr. r>ergh, was 
ofteji heard to say, after some season of unusual trial, 
" 1 declare, 1 wish there weiv some instantaneous and 
merciful way of killing a cat. If 1 hire a boy to kill 
her, he will torture her; if T turn her away, she will 
be abused and starved; if 1 keep her, she Avill wear 
the life out of me. She is a perfect I'lepliant ! " This 
last position was strenuously combated by liobby, who 
intimated that she had no trunk; but he wasjiromptly 
snubbed by Ib'uiu'tte, who remarked, "• I wish she Imd 
a trunk, 1 M put her into it and send her oft' by 
express this afternoon, with C. O. 1). on the cover, 
incaning Carry her Off and Hrowu her.'' Only Uob 
remained her friend ; chielly, no doubt, because ho 
never had any work to do for her. 

Of course it wouhl be impossible to set down all the 
tantrums of that cat, or to rehearse the worries, 
troubles, and vexations which she brought into tho 



TIIK CAT. 11 

family. A si)cciincii prank of hers will give a taste of 
her quality. 

The house, as jircvioiisly intimated, is running over 
with mice, or would run over, were it not ])erforatc<l 
with mouse-holes, to let out the surplus. ]>y dint of 
stopping these lioles with obstructions saturated with 
a solution of cayenne peppcu", a sniall percentage of 
tlie little devourers is kept out of tlie rooms ; hut 
the jigs they dance in the wall are wonderfid to liear. 
One Sunday they were unusually lively, and JJobby 
M'as much excited by their uneomtnon scufUing and 
squeaking. The idea at once occurred to him, that it 
would be well to introduce the cat to tlio attic, which 
is supposed to be mouse headquarters. So the cat 
was tenderly carried uji and deposited in the littlo 
prism-shaped cuddy under the eaves, informed that 
she might have all the nii(rc she could catch, and left 
to her pursuits. 

Half an hour later, a fearful commotion was heard 
in the sitting-room wall, a scratching, scrabbling, rat- 
tling, tearing racket, as thougli there were a fight of 
wild beasts going on behind the wall-])aper, the whole 
accompanied by a most blood-curdling yov/ing and 
spitting. The unhappy tliree read in each other's 
faces the dreadful fact — that cat had fallen down 
between the laths and the boarding ! 

Of course there was a family consultation, which 
inunediately adjourned to the attic. The closet door 
was <)j)ened, disclosing to the gai'ish light of day a lot 
of rubbish left by the last tenant — (why don't i)eoplo 



12 THE TRTANGULAU SOCIETY. 

clcnr out tlu'ir Ir.-isli wIumi tlicy move V ) an old cur- 
tain, a broken i;-ol)lo(, a mouldy boot, a debilitated hoop- 
skirt, — a veritable skeleton in a closet, — a fragment 
of a pitcher, one leg- of a pair of trousers, an old 
chair bottom, and some empty bottles, tlie whole 
"rounded and finished " with the cobwebs and dust 
of years, — but no eat. Instead, a jtrolongcd howl, 
ending in a spasmodic scrateliing that threatened to 
rip off the chipboards, came dismally up from the 
eaves, Avherc a narrow crevice at the ends of the floor- 
boards showed the only ])lacc where the cat could 
have descciuled. To this day, nobody understands 
how she could have S(pu'e/A'd herself down there. 

"Fuff! fuff! pint! ])hit! mow! mow! m-a-e-i-o-u-ow l" 
came up through the crack, as though a do/en cats 
were swearing on a wager. Whereupon every listener 
begun calling "Kitty, kitty!" in every tone of 
entreaty, endearment, and absolute wheedling. But 
all in vain. Bob ran for the persuasive pan, and 
scraped like mad, but nothing came of it. When ho 
ceased, an ominous silence reigned. " She 's stifled ! '' 
screamed Bobby, "she 's just suffocated dt)wn in that 
horrid hole 1 I wish you M never told mo to put her up 
here ! " added he, (piite ft)rgetting that it had been 
his own i)roposal. 

Presently two pale yellow phosphorescent spots 
appeared in the bl.ick crack, accompanied by a plain- 
tive " M-a-e-i-o-w ! " It was that cat. She put her 
nose against the crack to show that she couldn't jret 
her head through; she ])ushed her ]»aw up to show 



TJIK OAT. 13 

tlinl, slic (•<)iil(lii''l, oct lici- l)()(ly tlirougli ; slio eviiuH-d, 
or |)r('tt'ii(li'<l, the most t'rniitK! oiigoriicss to got out, — 
but ;ill in vuiii. 

" Fetch me :i l;imj), and the Mxe," Huid the worried 
motlicr, ill desperation ; "perh.-ips, if T can see, T may bo 
able Id |ir} ii|) ;i, boiinl and ht her out." TIk! I;iiiip 
and axe were brought, and th(! edge of the latter 
was inserted between tlic! boards. Tlieii th(! combiiuMl 
family s:it on \]\c liMudle i'or a pnrclinse, until a groan 
from tlio axe Avarned tliem that tlie liandle miglit givo 
way, when tliey dismounted. l>ut the boanl being 
firmly fastened !it tlie ends, simply bo\ve(l up a littlo 
in the middle, not enough to let a mouso through, and 
defied all the mother's strength, who was meanwhile 
burning off lier eyelashes over the lamp chimney, and 
getting her hair tangl(Ml in IIk; shingle nails of the 
roof. IJrunette afterward declared that even in this 
sore strait, the mother only said under her breath, 
"What would IMr. Uergli sayj"' 

But I^runette made no jocose remarks at ]>resent. 
"What shall we doV" she waiU^d. "When I Avas in 
New York, 1 knew a cat that got down in the wall 
that Avay and died theiuc, and the family had to movo 
away because " 

"Dear, dear," groaned tlic! mother. "What could 
Ave do'i"' and she strugghul wildly at tbe board, skin- 
ning her fingers and turning back her nails recklessly. 
" Get me a wedge-shaped piece of kindling-wood," she 
said, "perhaps I can drive it in and raise the board a 
littlo more." 



14 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

"The ])oor thing starved to death by inches," con- 
tinued the dismal narrator of New York exi)orience, 
"and it Avas dreadful to hear her mewing growing 
weaker and weak " 



" For mercy's sake," groaned the ])()or mother, to 
whom every word was a fresh goad, " do hold this 
wedge while I drive it. This wretched little hole of 
a closet is n't big enough for one to get into, even on 
one's knees ! If I could only get to the other edge of 
the board, so the axe-handle Avouldn't hit the door- 
casing every time I pound, I believe I could manage 
it." 

"Let one come," said Brunette, insanely anxious, 
"I 'm larger than you are, perhaps Tcan get in." 

The poor mother, too much exhausted to rebuke 
this folly by anything more than a re])roachf ul glance, 
paused a moment and wiped her wet forehead Avith an 
extremely dirty hand, Avhieh left three black streaks 
across her face diagonally ; she was (piite umuindful 
that the drops which anguish and fatigue h^^l called 
out on her forehead, had entirely ruined her inchoate 
crim])s. Finally, after everybody was covered with 
dust, cobwebs, sc^rntches and splinters, the wedge was 
driven, giving about two inches and a half of space 
for the cat's egress. 

"The creature never can flatten herself through 
that," sighed the poor woman, absently Avithdrawing 
a liair-i)in which had been driven too far into her 
head by contact with the slo])ing roof, " I know she 
can't." 



THE CAT. 15 

*' I guess sli(! can," chirpod liopoful Dobhy, "I 
liavc n't given lier anything Ijut a socl:i-crackc'r tliis 
morning, and slio ate that flat-wise." 

By this time the piteous mewing had quite ceased. 
" 8he lias got cauglit sotnewliere, and clioked lierself 
to death," said Urunctte, who was a[»t to take gh>omy 
views. 

" Slie 's Avhat's-liis-nani('-iatc(l," moane<l ]>o1>l»y, wip- 
ing his eyes on liis sister's ovtrrskirt. Ho liad that 
morning been reading alxnit a colliery explosion iu 
Belgium. 

"Let 's go down stairs, any way," suggested the 
mother, gathering up her cram[)ed limhs, " perhaps 
ahe '11 try to come out, after we arc gone." 

" If she does, she '11 be spoiled for a cat," murmured 
Brunette, under her brc;ath. 

The sadden(.'(I trio departed, JJobby afterward 
returning surreptitiously to ])lacc some tempting 
viands within smelling distan(;e of the crack, and 
retiring with the juost dismal forebodings, in which lie 
was joiTieil below by the others. 

"Tlowcan I ever eat another mouthful," said tho 
mother, half to herself, " with that poor creature starv- 
ing in the wall? It will drive me frantic to liear her 
mew, and as likt^ly as not the Cruelty Agent will get 
hold of it — " 

"But h(! can't pull li(;r out by her mew, if he does 
get hold of it," des|)airingly commented Bobby, " and 
I do wish — " 

" A sweet place this will be next summer," groaned 



16 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Brunette, her agile fancy springing forward six months 
at a bound, " which is the best disinfectant, chloride of 
lime, copperas, or carbolic acid ? " 

But this ghastly discourse was too painful, and a 
mournful silence succeeded. After a wretched liour, 
varied by occasional trips to the attic, which brought 
no tidings, the mother went to the wood-shed, return- 
ing a moment after, laden with a larger stick, a ham- 
mer, a cold-chisel, and a washboard. " I know she can 
never get up through that crack," slie said, — " this 
washboard is stronger than the axe-handle, or at any 
rate, I can split a floor-board with the chisel." And 
the jirocession wound up stairs again. 

Half-way up, the absurdity of the affair occurred 
to her. " Too bad ! " she exclaimed, " here 's the whole 
day going, just wasted on that cat! I believe I will 
never take jiity on an outcast again ! " 

" It 's shameful," grumbled Brunette, " I believe if 
she ever does get out, I shall feel like strangling her. 
A pretty day's work for Sunday, indeed ! " 

She opened the attic door spitefully as she spoke, 
and that cat came forward, smiling, to meet her 
friends, with her Avhiskers full of cobwebs, and her 
tail over her left shoulder. 



II. 

ANOTHER POEM. 

"Mother!" sang out Brunette, one morning, as 
she came breezily into the breakfast-room, on her 
return from a flying visit to the attic, cellar, or wood- 
shed, to which, in common with many other people, 
she always had some inscrutal)le errand as soon as 
she was called to breakfast. In strict candor, it ought 
to be mentioned that the breakfast-room of this frugal 
family was also the dining-room, and the supper-room, 
and the luncheon-room, and the tea-room — but just 
now, breakfast was on the table. The mother was 
busily rubbing away at the inside of a coffee-cup, 
with a napkin, and did not reply. " There ! " said 
she, suddenly dropping the napkin, " it 's only that old 
spot in the glazing, after all ! I suppose I shall wi])e 
that cup every time I see it, as long as it lasts ! Some 
people never do learn wisdom from experience, and 
I 'm one of them ! " 

" Mother ! " said Brunette again. She had a pecu- 
liar way of addressing her mother — a way of calling 
up to her, as though that amiable woman had just 
taken flight from the earth, and were hovering just in 
sight above her. So marked was this expression in 
Brunette's frequent exclamation, that her mother, 

17 



18 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

though not a specially brilliant or impressible woman, 
yet felt it to that extent that she often replied, ner- 
vously — "Yes, yes, Brunette, I'll come down 
directly." 

"Why don't you shout, Brunette?" said Bob 
pertly ; " I heard somebody say at a camp-meeting, 
out at Old Orchard, once, that there was ' no law 
against shouting.' " 

But Brunette only noticed her brother's interrup- 
tion by one of her flashing glances, Avhich he had long 
ago christened " a settler." It " settled " him for the 
present, and Brunette went on, " Mother, I 've written 
another poem." 

The mother spake not a word — she simply raised 
one eyebrow. 

"Well, string of verses, then," amended Brunette, 
"you certainly have the most speaking countenance 
that I ever heard. I believe the expression of your 
eyebrows would be audible to me, if I were in another 
room. And I 'm going to read them to you, and, 
Bob, if you '11 bo good, you shall hear them, too." 

Bob groaned in a sepulchral tone, and grumbled — 

" Mother told me, tlie other day, about old times, 
when people were very wicked, and she said they 
used to poison folks that they did n't like ; and so 
some of the kings and other great people — school- 
teachers, and policemen, and editors, and such, I 
s'pose — used to have tasters. A taster was a poor 
servant, who had to taste, beforehand, all the food and 
drink that were meant for the king — to see if they 



ANOTHER POEM. 19 

had been poisoned. That 's just how you do by 
mother and me. You read your verses to us, and if 
we can stand tliem, you tliink they will do to publish. 
Only I guess the taster in old times got some pay for 
his work, and we have to suffer for nothing, and take 
our chances." 

" The taster in old times," said Brunette, with an 
vmcommonly radiant "settler," "jirobably got his 
board and clothes for attending strictly to his busi- 
ness. His example is an excellent one for the youth 
of the jD resent day." 

" I 'm sure," said the mother, hastening to the res- 
cue, " Bob likes your verses. He has a scrap-book, 
and he puts into it everything you give him. He has 
a number of your poems in it already, as well as sev- 
eral written by jieople who — who — " 

"Know how?" added Brunette smiling, "and to 
reward you for that comjjliment, I will read my verses 
to you. And, moreover, sometime you shall hear my 
three-volume story ! " 

THE EXTINGUISHER. 

Oh! tales are told and songs are sung 

Of toilers far and near, 
The soldier and the fisherman, 

The plodding muleteer, 
The lumberman with sounding ax 

Where northern forests bow, 
The sailor on his dizzy ropes, 

The fai-mer at his plough — 



20 THE TliJANGUJ.AR SOCIETY. 

But no fond bard has sung tho iiraise 

Or inuvki'd the woary M'ay 
Of liiiu who puts the strcet-hxmps out 

Before the dawn of day. 

Who knows at wliat unchi-istian liour 

He leaves his happy sleep? 
Or docs lie stay all night awake 

iris lonesome tryst to keep ? 
And does he walk the dismal streets 

AVithout a thought of fear, 
Nor dread to meet a ])rowling foe, 

Nor dream of danger near ? 
And does ho do his work for love 

Without a thought of pay, 
The man who puts the street-lamps out 

Before the dawn of dav ? 

They eall the midnight horn- Uu; (imc 

When cemeteries yawn — 
]5ut ah, the fearsome time o' night 

Is just before the dawn — 
The darkest, coldest, dreariest lime, 

When half the worhl is dumb, 
Wlien shadows look like si)ectral shapes, 

And thieves and burglars come — 
When windows stare like slceijless eyes, 

And fogs roll up the bay — 
Just when lie puts the street-lamps out 
, Before tin; dawn of day. 

But worse than all the darkest nights 
Are tho&e when low and late 

The ghostly moon companions him, 
And follows like a fate: 



ANO'PHKlt. I'OICM. 



21 



SllO, Wllit^^ :it col'lirl-S (ill 111' ctilllfM, 

Tlirii nils licrmc Ik' knows, 
Aim! scikIs a, pliaiilinii, hliick aiul ^I'ii", 

To (rack him wlii'fi' In^ ^'<)''«; 
I \\ Icr if lie (li'ca<ls licr faiH-, 

Or likes lici- ]y.i\\\(\ ray, 
Tliirt man who jxilM tlic- Klrci'l-lainps oiil, 
l-.d'orc Ihf ikiwii 111" <l:iy '<* 

'I'hc tmly si,L!;ns of Urc he. hcch 

i;iil, wrai- a monriiriil ^Miisc; 
IJcliiiitl carh dim-lil paiu', Im' knows 

Sonu! HlcH'.plf.sH sorrow Hcs; 
Some woman lends ii siilTiiriii-^ <'liil(l, 

Or halhrs a, sick man's hi'aii, 
Or some, (icvolcd spirit kc<'i»s 

lis vi;.'il l»y llni dead — 
And hails Iiis foolslcp as the. si^^il 

or morn's nrliirnini,' ray, 
WliMl, limo 111', puis the Hlrcia-lanips oiil, 
Kdoii'- llic, dawn of day. 

I lu^ar him wlicn Wir iidvy skies 

I'onr (h)WM llieir <h'i'nehin;^' Hood, 
His hools are noisy on IIm' hri(dvS, 

Or sih'nL in the. nnid; 
I hftiir Inm in llie. wimly ni;j;hls 

Wh('n hiinds and windows cn^ak, 
I lusar liim in Uie winier-tinie 

Wh<!n slornis HH! wild and hieak — 
And ytd, 1 nevcu- saw liu! face 

(Td'haps no mortal may — ) 
Of liim wilt) pills th(i 8tre('l-ia,mi)S oiil, 

lU:UtVi- the dawn of day. 



22 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

" I question whctlior aTiybody ever took tliat sub- 
ject for a i)oein before," said her niotlier, " and I don't 
believe any editor will accept the verses." 

"/think," said Bob, witli liis head on one side, like 
a contenij)lative canary-bird, " I think that would be 
a very good j^oeni, if you did n't have so many adjec- 
tives in it." 

" Adjectives ! " exclaimed Brimette, " why, Bob, I 
don't believe you would know an adjective if it 
should walk into the room ! " 

" Well," said Bob, still trying to look brave and 
wise, " T heard the teacher tell one of the girls at 
school the other day, that she spoiled her composition 
with so many adjectives ; she said there were two or 
three of 'em to every noun ; and I believe that 's what 
ails your poem. Anyway, I wish you 'd Avrite one 
without any adjectives, and see if it would be any 
better." 

" Bob," said his sister, kindly, " if criticism ever 
helped anybody, I shall be a poet one of these days ; 
and meanwhile, little one, while I 'm Avaiting to be 
great, I '11 write a poem to snit you. I think I shall 
have time, if I make it short." 

And the next evening, as the5' sat around the supper- 
table after the meal was finished. Brunette read aloud, 
for her brother's S2^*-'^'i"^l delectation, the following 
stanzas, first 2:)romising him the copy for his scrap- 
book. 



ANOTHER POEM. 23 

TIIK ADJKL riVK. 
"VVhcro would liic Corcc of l;iiiu;ii;iL,r(! he 

Witliout {\ir. ii(ljccliv(^ ? 
How could \]n'. crilicr wiiii^ liis hIuiI'L? 

How could the |)o(!l, liv(! V 

How could the iiovclisi: portray 

TIu! creatures of his hralii, 
The, heanly of his heroine, 

Thci transport of his swain? 

No more liis tide; of elo(|U('nee 

The oi'ator could pour, 
No more the man of science till 

His treasuries of hjre. 

The lov(!r's touL,nj(! could n((V(!r tell 

IHs ])assion and despair; 
Deprived of its sviperlativcs 

AVlio would for llattery care? 

Where would the sting of satire he ? 

The edge and point of wit ? 
How could the stah of censure; wound, 

The dart of sarcasm hit? 

Biographers would ceas(! to prowl, 

IHstorians drop the i)en, 
Paralysis would chill and numh 

"J^he tongues :iud minils of men, — 

Tlu! press would lose its voice of miglit, 

The pulpit all its power, 
The sage could not describe a star. 

The l)otaiiist a flower, — 



24 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

So rarely is a period ijenncd, 

A line or sentence made, 
Or thought set down, O adjective, 

"Which does not claim thy aid I 

Yet I for once def}^ thy might, 

For mark me, as I live. 
No stanza of the nine here writ 

Contains an adjective I 

" I don't like that as well as I do some of the 
others." said Bob, in a disappointed tone, " jierhaps 
it is n't the adjective that ails 'em, after all. I met a 
lady coming out of a grocery, the other day, Avith some 
sort of fruit in a paj^er bag, and she said to her little 
girl that it Avas luscious, and when I asked mother 
what " luscious " was, she said it was an adjective, 
I guess I like adjectives, after all. And the teacher 
told the girl at school that an adjective was only a 
part of speech, and there wei-e lots of other parts, I 
don't remember how many ; and hoAV would it do if 
you should make a poem all of adjectives, and leave 
out all the other j^arts of speech ?" 

" Bob," said his sister, kissing him, with a little sigh, 
" you 're as brilliant as most of the critics, and you 
have n't had half their advantages. I'll tell you what 
I '11 do — the next poem I write sj^ecially for you, I 'II 
leave out all the parts of speech, and I think it Avill 
just suit you, yellow-head ! " 



III. 

AN UNCONFESSED POET. 

"Mother!" cried Brunette, pulling off her hat as 
she entered the room, and letting her black hair tum- 
ble all about her face in the process, " I want to tell 
you — " 

" Brunette," said her mother solemnly, " there 's 
only one adjective which applies to your hair, — it 's 
exuberant. Do tone it down a little." 

" Why don't you quote the college song, and call it 
copious ? " asked Brunette, taking a dancing turn 
around the room to the tune of " Sweedle-inktum " ; 
"but that was n't what I wanted to tell you," said 
she, dropping so suddenly and solidly into a chair that 
the floor trembled. " I read today in one of the 
2:)apers that a gentleman well known in this town — 
he must be a poet at heart, although he has heretofore 
kept it from the public — " 

" There are some failings, my danghtei*," said the 
mother, " which even the best of us instinctively keep 
to ourselves." 

" Well," i-eplied Brunette, with a grimace, " he 's 
betrayed himself now, at any rate." 

" Has he let some astrologist examine his head?" 
asked Bob, crowding between them, " and did the 
2 25 



26 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

astrologist, or the apologist, I forget wliicli, find tliat 
the soft place had ii't grown up yet? You know you 
told me once, that the soft place that is in all babies' 
skulls, don't grow up and get hard in the head of one 
who is going to be a poet, did n't you, now ? " asked 
Bob, half ready to cry at the difficulties of his expla- 
nation. 

Brunette looked keenly at lier mother. " Did you 
and Bob have that talk after I read you my last 
poem?" she asked. But the mother looked up can- 
didly, and asked, " Well, what about the well-known 
Portland gentleman ? " 

"Why," said Brunette, mollified by her mother's 
interest, "he has bought an island down the bay, and 
actually ]»lanted it all over with acorns, in order to 
have a great growth of oak trees for ship-timber." 

" Ship-timber ! where will he be, when trees from 
newly-planted acorns are large enough for shii>tim- 
ber ? " gasped the mother. 

" That 's a question between himself and his con- 
science," replied Brunette, " but it is safe to say that 
if he is alive then, he will be considerably older than 
he is now ; middle-aged, at any rate. But that makes 
no difference with the poetical ])hase of the affair. 
I think—" 

" What is a middle-age man ? " asked Bob, Avho 
had a bad habit of interrui)ting his sister. It was the 
jirincipal ground of debate between them. " Mother, 
is a middle-age man one Avho was born in the middle 
ages ? " 



AN UNOONFESSED POET. 27 

" Bob Smith," said liis sister severely, " I wish 
mother would never answer a single one of your 
interruption-questions. I was saying that I think the 
matter of the acorn 2)lantation is highly suggestive, 
and I 'm going to write something about it. A fine 
poem might be made on the subject, but I don't 
expect to do it justice." 

" There she goes again," muttered ]]ob ; " the least 
thing sets her uff to writing verses. Even an acorn 
will do it." But ])runetto went on: 

" IIow long does it take an oak tree to gnnv from 
a seed ? Fifty years would n't make much of a tree, 
would they? ^V hundred, perhaps. The song says, 
' And still flourish he, a hale green tree, when a hun- 
dred years are flown.' In a hundi'ed y(^ars, perhaps, 
the government will take a fancy to have a navy, and 
then tlie acorn-planted island will yield a dozen for- 
tunes to somebody, if the crows don't eat the acorns 
up before they grow." 

" Crows don't eat acorns ! " exclaimed Bob, who 
prided himself on his natural history, " They eat corn 
and insects, and I saw in a newspaper the other day, 
that the crow is the farmer's friend, and I suppose 
that is why he goes to see the farmer and stays all 
summer." 

" Crows eat many other things beside corn and 
insects," said the mother. " A frieud of mine in New 
Jersey says, that crows actually carry off his chickens 
out of the door-yard. When I tried to make him 
believe that the mischief was done by hawks, he 



28 THE TRIANGULAll SOCIETY. 

declared that he liad often seen tlie crows descend and 
capture chickens. It struck ine as queer, because I 
liavc known Miiiiic fjirmers to keep black hens, in 
order, as they said, to keep off hawks from tlie farm- 
yard, since liawks arc afraid of crows, and will not 
willingly approach them." 

"And so are exjiccted to take black liens for 
crows V " asked ]>rum'tte. 

" And so are expected not to take tliem at all, but 
to avoid the neighborhood altogether." 

" I thought," said Brunette, suddenly returning to 
her original subject, " I thought we were talking about 
)>lanting acorns, and here wo are, discussing the merits 
of black hens as scarecrows." 

"As for acorns," said her mother, "does n't L(nig- 
fellow si»eHk in Evangeline, about crows ' with nauglit 
in their craws l)ut an acorn ?' " 

lirunette laughed. " Why, little mother," she said, 
"those were wild pigeons, instead of crows. I hardly 
believi' tlie wild pigeons will meddle Avith tlie gentle- 
man's acorn-farin on tlje island. And after sui)per, 
to-morrow evening, I am going to read you my verses 
on the subject, and see if you think them worth offer- 
ing for publication." 

Bob had read enougli of the cheap chronic witti- 
cisms in the newspapers, to convince him that " poet- 
ry " Avas a weakness properly relegated to silly girls 
and light-ballasted young men ; so he generally affected 
great contempt for it, and although at heart he 
delighted in it, and liked Brunette's readings, he felt 



AN UNCONFESSED POET. 29 

it a duty to put in a deniurrcr whenever opportunity 
offered. 

After sapper was cleared away the next day, Bru- 
nette read her poem. 

ACORN PLANTING. 
Bury the secd-gorms deep, before the snow, 

'No pledge for amber grain or golden ears, 
But for a fleet of ships, whose hulls shall grow 

Out of these acorn shells — in fifty years. 

Who plants but for a summer-time, has need 
Of steady faith to rule his doubts and fears; 

How full of trust the soul that sows the seed 
Whose harvest ripens not for fifty years I 

Upon these germs shall Nature's forces wait, 
Sunlight and dew shall nurse the tender shoots, 

The landward breezes bring their misty freight, 
And timely rains refresh the thirsty roots. 

On the slow marvel of their annual growth 
Shall fickle skies alternate frown and smile, 

And richest green and deepest scarlet both 
In turn make beautiful the desert isle. 

IIow will the strong limbs writhe in woe and pain, 
When winter tempests rise in howling wrath, 

When roaring waves sweep inward from the main. 
And sailors' wives turn pale beside the hearth! 

And when the noble boughs swing wide and high, 
And the rejoicing trees wax tall and great. 

Then , on their seeming immortality. 
Will fall the sudden thunderbolt of fate, — 



vU) Tino T1MAN(J11LAI{. SOOIETY. 

Slidii';- nrins will level .ill llu'ir leMl'y l!,nico, 

hell iiaiids will hew mid slinpe, — and spar and luast, 

Jvtud, I'ilt and beam and plaiik will liiid llieir plaeo, 
And 1(»I {ho lardy harvest smiles al last I 

Mori' iiiai-velldMs jlian aULdd in llial old (ale 

or di'a'^ons' li'eth whieh spi'onled men and speavs, 

'I'he story of the \ essels whieh shall sail 
(>ut of these aeoin cups in lH'ty yearsl 

rerehanee some happy trunks, unsealhed, may ho 
Sparml in their splendid strenj^tli and statelinoas 
To Ljrei'l the inorninLj risini^; from tlu^ sea 

Now, yet Iho same — a hnndred \ears from this. 

Th(> scinuTcd, wisely Ughlenin;;- toil with mirtli, 
\\'ill frisk and till his elH>eks, npt)n the hongli, 

'I'hen, ihallerin;;, hide his Ireasiircs in Iho ourlh, 
lu autumn days, a hundred years from now. 

Sliy, swiH>t-voiei>d birds will wailih> in tht'ir shado, 
Far from all Imman stir and furbnliMieo, 

And rear their downy olVsprim; nnafniifl — 
Thi^ sonL;-birds of a. hiuidred suuunors henoo. 

Hut yon and 1, my friend, who uuisi> and smile 
Ovei- these faneii'S, — \vi> shall lu', by tlien, 

l»owed, and dim-i'yod, anil wan; — so little while 
Makes ships of acorns, and inukoa wr»uks of n\onl 



lY. 

A SNOW-STORM. 

" WllA'i' :i Itciiil.il'iil Hiiow hI.oiiii ! " «'xcl;i,iiiic(| iJu^ 
iiiullicr, .MM hIki (Im'w ii|) t.lii" HiMiii;^ ruDiii (iiirliiiiiH orio 
irniniiii";. Itciii'^ of ;i, moiiicwIkiI. Hcril itin'iir.-iJ Liirii, hIk) 
\v;iH ;i|il- l<) look III, l,ln' |ti('liy ni<l<^ of (,liiii";H lirHl, niid 
il< dill iiol, :il, 1,lic iiioinciil/ oc,<-,iii- l,i* licr, I.IkU, ;i, Hronii 
wliicli li;i-(l |(ilc(| iJic HiHiw HO lii;4-|i ii,^!iiiiH(, iJin rn)iiti 
iiml h\(\(' of iJm lioUHd, l,li;i,l, (,li(i vviiidowH were \\:\\i 
t)\w.uvv(\ l)y tJic (IfiflH, fiii'flil, liiivc Jiiiullur l.li.iii llui 
" Ix'.'iiil il'iil " .side. II. li.'ul HiH)\Vc<l, l>li)VVii, iiimI illil'icd, 
Sill (lie cMrly p.'irl, of Uw- iii;^dil. ; l)iil, I.Iki wind li:i.d 
rnllcii hdfoi-d l,Ii(i snow r.cMKcd, :uid (ivcry r('ii(M'-|i(»Ht,, 
:iiid l.iiii|i |M):;t,, :iiid ;^,'ird('ii hL'I,I<<i \v;ih ''.'i-iiiu'd wil.li ;i 
Holt, I'c.'illicry tiirlniii, \vliil<^ every \v<'<'d iuid (lovv<;r- 
Hl;iJk wliieli \v:i.H (.;ill (!iioii;;li (,o ;i|»|)e!ir lJiroii<!,li (,li(i 
Hiiow, won! ;i,Ih<) itH H|>ollesH ;iiid downy crown. TIki 
inotlicr mdockcd ;ind opi ned I, he lionl, door, :uid inel, 
u Holid w.'i-ll of Hnow ho lii,;;li (Iml. hIm; c-oidd jiml, Heo 
over it,. 

'• No :idmiM,:i.nc(! cxctci)!, on KiiMineHH," H.'iid l'»nuieM,<i, 
}K'c|)in^ over il, l)y HL'uidin^ on (,i|»l,o<!, " ;uid no e<freHH 
vn (f/ii/ \Ar;i. Wli.'ilcvcr hIi.mJI w(i do V " 

"I 'vc {'ol, :i nice new hiiow-hIiovcI," cried IJoli, 
;i|i|>e:irin'!;' Ix'nl, douMe over (,li(i Hl,!i,ir-l):iiiiHl,erH, iiiid 

UL 



32 THE TEIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

coming down with a reckless slide, and one boot in 
his hand, " and I can shovel it all away, after break- 
fast." 

" Tbu ! " said Brunette, " you '11 make about as 
much impression as a spaiTow could with a teaspoon." 

" Sparrows never shovel snow with teaspoons," said 
Bob, doggedly. 

" Well, when I was little, grandmother used to tell 
me, when I asked her what became of the snow in 
the spring, that the birds ate it up," said his sister, 
" and if they do, it 's more than likely that they use a 
teaspoon. I wish they 'd eat this," she continued, anx- 
iously, "for nobody can get out to hunt up a man, and 
no human being will come near us to see whether we 
are dead or alive." 

" Yes, there will," said practical Bob, who already 
felt an interest in municipal government. " I saw, the 
other day, in the newspaper, that anybody who don't 
have his sidewalk cleared of snow in season, will be 
arrested, and prosecuted, and persecuted, and fined, 
and executed according to law ; and you see if the 
Mayor and council don't come up here and arrest 
m.other, unless you let me go out and shovel the snow 
off." 

" If the Mayor and council of aldermen should 
come up here," said Brunette, " they would at least 
break a nice road, and the fine would n't amount to 
much more than we should have to pay for a man to 
shovel. The last storm, mother actually ])aid a man a 
dollar for half-shovelling the walk. I could have done 



A SNOW-STORM. 33 

it better myself, an<l would have been glad to do it 
for that money, if only the neighbors, great two-fisted 
men, would n't lean on their shovels and compliment 
me on my smartness," said Brunette, her eyes kindling 
with resentment. 

" Compliments are apt to be plentier than assist- 
ance," replied the mother, who had had her share of 
the former, but very little of the latter. "I don't 
want to find fault with my neighbors, or to ask help 
of them, but sometimes, when the wind favors them, 
and burdens me — " 

" Yes," flashed Brunette, " when the wind does as 
it did last night, sweeps every bit of the snow off Mr. 
Jones' sidewalk, and piles it all up on ours, and he 
with two or three men in the family, and we with 
none, I think it 's scandalous for him to go off down 
town, laughing, and leaving me to shovel the snow 
that really ought to go half to him. Why, we have 
more than double the snow which really belongs to us." 

" To him that hath, shall be given," quoted the 
mother, " and though I could never see the justice of 
it, either in the matter of snow, sorrow, or riches, it 
appears tliat we can't help ourselves. Bob can make a 
beginning on the drifts, after breakfast, and if nobody 
comes near to ask for a job, you and I must take a 
turn at it this evening, when no one will see us, and 
at least make a passage to the street, so that we can 
hunt up a shoveller." 

The day was as absolutely quiet as it is possible for 
a day on earth to be, excepting, perhaps, in the far 
2* 



34 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

frozen silence of the North pole. No sleighs, or sleds, 
or vehicles of any sort were heard. No visitors came, 
no errands were done, no supplies came in, no one ven- 
tured out in the remote street, far from business 
tlioroughfares, wherein was the half-buried dwelling 
of this self-contained and self-de])endent family. Bob 
went from window to window, to vary the prospect of 
snow, snow, snow; the mother busied herself with 
some of those occult tr.sks which the ruling spirit of 
the household always saves for " a good quiet day, 
when there will be no callers ; " and Brunette spent 
some time upstairs. She emerged in the afternoon, 
however, and to Bob's outspoken delight, read aloud 
the following fruit of her seclusion. 

SNOWED IN. 

All night when the rattling windows ceased a moment to 
strive and beat, 

We heard the merciless wind pursue the whisking, whis- 
pering sleet. 

And gazing now with the dawn's first gleam through 
panes by frost impearled, 

We see but a waste of whirling white, — what has become 
of the world ? 

We open the outer door to meet a solid, snowy wall. 
That, uninvited and unannounced, comes tumbling into 

the hall; 
The path from door to gateway is as though it had not 

been; 
And we are lost to the world to-day — cut off — left out — 

snowed in I 



A SNOW-STOEM. 35 

There is no creak of laboring teams — no jingle of cutter 
bells — 

No schoolgirl's giggle, and clicking heels — no school- 
boy's senseless yells — 

There is no sound in the whole long street of whistle, or 
laugh, or talk. 

But shovel responds to shovel again, along the drifted 
walk. 

The snow-birds sit in the leafless tree, and laugh at our 
sorr^ plight; 

Even the postman plays us false, and never comes in 
sight; 

The driit grows deeper across the walk, and deeper still 
by the wall , 

And the milk-boy slights the waiting can, and the clam- 
man fails to call. 

Between the dwarfed and night-capped posts, the useless 
clothes-lines swing — 

And Monday's clothes will go unhung, for who would 
wash and wring, 

With drifts hip-high in the drying-yard, and never a soul 
about 

To shovel and tread the zigzag paths, and dig the door- 
steps out ? 

And hours go by, and still it snows, till the fences stand 

knee-deep, 
And ever between the house and street there drifts a 

higher heap; 
The empty milk-can on the step is hidden out of sight ; 
Wc shall have no milk for our frugal toast, no cream for 

our tea to-night I 



'M ■nil', riMANOHLAic M()(ii.;rv. 

Sudwcil iiil mill we iMi'liI ilir lo (l:i\', ;iii<l lie licni ilv.ul IX 

Ami who would (|ni':i|i(m our w lirrfnbouts, t)r (.•uimi lo 

;kiIv niid iutK V 
Nol Olio wdiilil woiidtr wluTo M'o M jMnio, or avIumi or 

liow wo won! , 
I ' iild I lie landlord raiiu^ 1(> luiii;- liiii iiioullilv hill lor rciil I 

A lilllo liol'oro (link, llfiiiioiro liod down lioi' I'oliol- 
lioiis liairwilli a. Ncarl", w (Hiiid a shawl (■Io^i(•l\ ahoiit, 
lu'i' clio.-d. and I iod it liohiiid, di'ow a |>air «)|' IioM(< on 
<>\ or hor hool.'i, and, aniiod uilli Hob's uoo<Ion Nhoxcl, 
Weill Old lo ''inalvo a l>i-oalv lor tho }j;!ltt'," ;is nIh< said. 
Slio \v!is iicillior \i'\\ laiv,c nor \<M'y iiuiscular, l>u(. hIio 
wilH ill |K'rt"o('( lu'iillli, and, an Hob hmIiI, hIh> had " r///t 
onou)di loi* hair :i down ''ii'ls." Sho was nol. tall 
t'iioni',h (i) lill, tho snow iVoin llu' (op of llio iVont-door 
<lril'l ; Hit siic lM";,nii I>y b*^!!!^!; into il, lumH>l-wis(«, iiiul 
|>a( lviii",-tho snowon v-aoli sidt>. Sho had noail v o'«)tp 
down (Ih' sli>|is lo {\\o >>,roniid in I his way, w lion llm 
tiinnol roof Icll in ailojvcl lior, noaily sinotlioriii!; Iior, 
and lillino,' o\ cry fold of lior j'^aniionls with lino snow, 
,Sho Uo|)t on, liowovor, xaliantiy, IJioiivJi (Ik- wind, 
w iioiioNor sho raistvl (lio slio\oll'iil of snow, blow back 
about, half (d' il in Iht faco. \lcv fool aohod, and iior 
oars (iiiidod; Iior skirls llapiiod and (aii;',Iod, and 
iin|iodod (ho way of (ho slio\ol, and, prcsoni ly , ( lio 
NliJirp ooiiior of (ho lador cid a ( riaii!!;iilar piooo out, 
of (ho boKoiii of hor iioal black dross. 

"Now, tliMl 's /('I) bad I " said she; "skirts woro 
lu'vor inudo to shovel snow in, any wiiy ; luul yi>(, if I 



A WNOVV MTOI.'M. 



87 



sliould |Mi(<ni tlic !;:irli ihIiiiiIimI (o \\\\ work, llir com- 
(iltiK* I li:il, iiicii litid so ^ I'liliN riiii'iil, ciiin loll .'ililc, iiihI 
<n'.(>ii(>ini<t!il,' (Ik'}' woiiM mitcsT iiic for ir. 'I'li.il 'm tlio 
(vmiforf, of liviiii!,' in w. U-w coiiiil ly," siiiil I'.niiictlc, 
1 lirowiiiLj ln'f hIiovcI MWiiy :icci<It'nl.:illy, ;iinl |'liiii^iiif^ 
.•il'lcr ir, wliilt' r>ol» loilrd ;il'l('|- licr \\ ilJi ;iii old hidoiii. 

Al. [\\v cikI of ,-in lioiir, ^ll(' ;i|i|i(';ii'i'(| in I lie kili'lirii, 
rosy .'iiid wriil lifiil. While her mollicr w :i!4 ln'iisliiii<jf 
llic snow olT InT i|;ni;dili'|- willi :i, wliisk, I Iniiicl lo 
l)r<»Iv(! ont, with u vcliciiK'iicd l,|i;it MiTcrl.cd Ih.ii :inii:i- 
\)\v woni.'Ui'H olbovvH lilvo ii Hlioc.k from :i /.'•:iiv;ini(5 
It.il (rry. 

" Wh.'it, 'h [\w iiho of Hityinjj;' th;il, hdmr is r<'S|.('c(,(«<I V 
TIh' n(>\vs|i!i|)('rH s.'iy it, iJio copy l)ooks M;iy il, :ui(l 
]ir(';ichri-M .'ind tcMchcrs :unl Idrtiirors of ;ill Horls say 
il, in one \v;iy or Mnolhcr. I'.iit il, is iTl, so. Nohody 
n'S|iccl,H il. ; cvfryhody (IcN|»is('s it. II. wiis |)ronoim(M'(l 
u <mrH(i in f.Ii<i <;';ird('ii of I'ldcn, juid it. 'h \wv\\ :i dis;.fr!U'o 
over since ; ;il. :niy r;ilc, lo women, :il( liou'di the doom 
o'i l;il)or u'iiM iTl, |iroiionn<'ed on Mve, :il, Iciisl. Iiy iiiiy- 
Ix'dy l»u(, l,h:ii ro\v:ird Adiim.'" 

"Urunelle!" exclaimed her mother, "what. ha-H 
bccoMK' of my indnsLrioiis, l>ra,ve, an<I |)aiienl. littlo 
\f^\v\ ? ^'oll are too svvecnin;^, my child ! " 

" No, I am sliovellinL!,'," iuiKVV<,'re<| Itninettc, " ll(tl) is 
H\v«'<'pin<^. Seel he looks for all the w'orhl like ;i 
ycllowdiaired fairy with a lonj^-stennned tliistleddoH- 
Hom. lint if yon tliink I am wroii^^, if you ha.v'<i Jivcfl 
all I his time, Itelievint^ that, honest lalior is alwayH 
res]»<>cted, |ilease ex plain Ihin. If I shoiihl ;',<» ont 



o8 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

lIuM'o in du' (loor-VMVil niid st;iii<I Imll" ;iii hour, simply 
lookiii!^" up ;niil (low II the ^Irrrl, ;i liuiuirod nu-n mi<>;lit 
p.-iss, niul uo{ owe ol" lliiMu would sjjoak U) iui>, or t'vi'ii 
look Mi 1110. 'I'lu'v know il would bo ;in iiiipiMlinoihH' 
to s|)o;ik \o :\ lady w ho is ;it lu>r own l:;i(i\ prohaMy 
wailing' tor hor t'alhor or ln'othorto oonu> (o supju'r. 
r>ut w lion 1 ^■o o\\{ (lioro w ilh a litllo shovol, and Iry 
to inaUi> a path to tiio j^alt', halt" tho pi-rsons who pass, 
tool liHH> to spoak to nu>. Not oidy tho noiLihUora 
whom I Know l>y si<j,ht, but actnally |H'oplo whom I 
TU'vor saw bol'oro. will sini;' out about tho woalhor, or 
romark about tho depth ot' snow, or toll mo that it 's 
hard sliovolliuL!:, or soniothiiiu' of tho sort, as thoiiu;li [ 
woro a sort of i-roiiy, and on tho bost tonus ot" at'(|uaint,- 
anoo with thorn, and thoy had a rii^ht to bo 'Hail 
fidlow woll mot' with mo. ]V/ii/ / It" labor is 
rospootod, why don't thoy show mo as iniioh rospoot 
w luMi 1 am :it work, as w hon 1 am doiiii;; nothiiib^':* It 
was just S(> last summor," sho wont on, puttiii';- lior 
hand lii^'htly oviM- hor mothor's mouth; " w Iumi 1 wont, 
out in tho di>or-yard at sunsot. and walkod statoly 
.•unoiiLi,' tho tloword)ods, nobody i>vor i;avo mo a word 
ov :i hn>k, but iiiindotl his tnvii alYairs ; but altor tho 
U'rass was iiiowod, and tho man, liko all tho nu>u >vo 
om|iloy, t'ailod to tii\ish tho job, and lol't tho hay ti> 
bU>\v all o\ or my tlow ors, and I i;t>t. tirod of it, auil 
took tlu> rako, ono ovoninu', and soh^mnly rakotl it up, 
what do you think? At loast o\ory third man that 
wont by, said soiuolhiiii;" to mo about my ooiuipa- 
tion ; said tho grass was liL;,ht, or tho rako was hoavy, 



A SNOW-STOIIM. 89 

or tlial I understood my hiisincss, or soinci Iiiiii^ of llio 
sort. Not. nil clowns, citlicr, hiil, sohh! of tJicni vvi'll- 
drcsscd, :iiid lookiiiijf liko ^cnt Iciiicii, who would ifL 
liiivo tlioii!j,li(, (»r M|K':ikinL!,' to mv if I liiid Inwii Kiiiiply 
* lojiiiiiij; nl: my case, ohscrviuL^ a spcsar of i^rass.' At 
last, wlii'n one man plantcil his ('ll)ows on the i'c^neo 
iiiid took hiins(!li' by the cars, preparatory to a lon<^ 
conv(M'sation, I droppcMl tlio rake and (rame in. Now, 
is all t/i<ii eorrol)oration of th(! popnlai' assertion that 
honest labor is always respeetiid Y Tell nse (hat! " 

" lirnnet te," said hvv niotluu' tcMidcirly, kissini;- one 
of ]n'r hnrninL;' cheeks, "you are all out of breath, 
chilli, and supper is n^ady ; and tlusro are a few thint^s 
which ev(Mi your mother cannot satisfactorily explain." 

Aft(!r su|)p(u-, IJrunettc still farther relieved lior 
mind by the folIowiiiL;" lines on tlu? currciut topic. 

SIIOVKLIJNC SNOW. 

A lionnlirui snowfall, over nii^dit. 

Anil sirri't and sidewalk are blixtkcid with white — 

And plied by many a, slurdy hand, 

Th(! sound of the shovel is Iniard in the laud — 

Ah, hapless dolvors, who rise at six, 

To excavate for tlu; buried bricks! 

Alas, the labors of shovel and spado 
On all the railroads that ever were made, 
Can never begin with the toilsome woo 
Of muscle wasted in shovelling snow; — 
And when all the wintm-'s task is o'er, 
The world is the same as it was he fore 1 



40 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

In all oUicr digging under the sun, 

There 's something gained by the labor done — 

A well, a highway, a grave, a ditch, 

Canal or garden, no matter which; 

But what is there left to save or show 

Of a winter's labor in shovelling snow ? 

Ah, struggle for triumph that never is woni 
What does it come to, when all is done ? 
For after the toiler has blistered his palms, 
And strained his shoulders and lamed liis arms, 
He has cleared with inlinite toil and pain, 
A place for the snow to till again 1 

Three undertakings beneath the sun 
Are never abandoned, and never done — 
Though generations their lives expend, 
They '11 never be finished till time shall end; 
These three, as many have cause to know, 
Arc house-work, kissing, and shovelling snow. 

Bob, who was not over-critical about artistic hand- 
ling, when tlic subject-matter of verse happened to 
please him, was much entertained by this nonsense. 
He had not seemed to be in his usual merry liealth 
for a day or two, and the afternoon's dissipation 
among- tlie snow-drifts had not improved the matter ; 
he Avas evidently rather under the wcathci'. Brunette 
decided that he needed a little coddling, Avith herb 
tea and hot water as accessories ; and wliile she was 
roasting and toasting him to her heart's content tliat 
evening, she diverted his attention by singing him the 



A SNOW-STOUM. 41 

following song, to a familiar air which chanced just 
then to be extremely popular. 

THE SONG OF THE SEASON. 

Darling, you have taken cold, 
It is easy to be told, — 
That 's the sixteenth time to-day 
You have sneezed that dreadful wayl 
1 '11 exhibit presently 
Foot-baths hot, and ginger tea, 
Else, my darling, you will be 
Sick as launch, 't is plain to see. 

You must take a sweat to-night, 
And when you are melted quite 
With the heat and perspira- 
tion, I cannot choose but say — 
Oh, my darling, mine alone! 
I am grieved to hear you groan, 
IJut this remedy, my own. 
Is the best prescription known. 

Darling, we must cure your cold, 
Or, ere ever you grow old, 
Ilheumatism will rack you — oh, 
But its twinges torture sol 
Ah, this weather's wicked will 
Is enough to make you ill — 
Yes, my darling, frost and chill 
Sharpen many a doctor's bill. 

Let mc move your easy chair 
Farther from this draught of air — 



42 THE TRIANGtniiAIl SOCIETY. 

Put your feet up in a row 

On the nice wiirm stove-hearth, so; 

I am fearful you have grown 

Careless of your health, my own, 

For you cough, and wheeze, and moan, 

Like a phthisicky trombone. 

l'envoi. 

Darling, you have taken cold, 
That is easy to be told. 
Sneezing in that dreadful way, — 
That 's the sixteenth time to-day I 



T. 

ACCEPTING A SITUATION. 

" MoTiiioii ! " ciillc^d IJnincltc, oiK^ (ivciiiiiLC just at 
twilis^ht, as hIk; cmiiki iii1,<> t,li(! sitl/m^-i-ooiii iVoin licr 
own cJi.'unbor, wlicrc hIk; Ii:u1 Iuh'.u (tloHcl/Ml for Homo 
hours, 'l^licri! wwis a sc^rioiis look Itctwccii licr cyos, 
ami an iiik-st,:iin on licr ri^lil, rorofinf^or. " Motlicr, I 
Ix^licvc I sliail a(!(',('))t a Hituation." 

"Why, wlial, do you mean, my child ? " askc(I her 
niolJicr, lookiu'^ u|) from I>oI»'h shoe, on which she wan 
Hcwintf buttons, whih* Ik* maih; tlnr most of th(! oppor- 
tunity to run u|> and down tho room " stockint^- 
footiid," as h(! calhid it, " Has anybody lA'U'wA you 
one? If so, who, when, what, wiierc, ami how V" 

" That in<|uiry (covers the- whoN; <f round," said IJru- 
nctt.e, " but when you ]iav'(! studied ncnvspajxtrH as 
much ;is I hiivc, you will |t(!rceiv(! that ' acceptint^ a 
situation ' docs n't m^cessarily m(!an that one has Ixion 
ofiercd ; at least, not in tlui news|>a|)(!r busiiKtss. WIk^m 
a collcgcvboy l"(!els within him tin; im|»uls(i to mould tluj 
masses, and enligliten the world, and r(;(!o^ni/(!S jour- 
nalism as the |)ath to these glorious ends, and bcLjins 
to inquire! among his friends, and write ]vtU'XH to pub- 
lishers, and visit nGWsi)aper oflices, and ;iir his (ireek 
and Latin Ixsforc tho editors, and p(!rha])S tiy to cut 

43 



44 TITE TRIANC.ULAR SOCIETY. 

8(11110 ]»o<)v Moinnn out of licr situation by offering to 
■work for less than s!u^ does, and finally gets .1 eliance 
to work a nu)ntli lor nothing, on trial, it is announced 
in the dailies tliatlio has 'accepted a sitnation' on the 
staff of tin' (ri-weekly ''I"'ronil)oiie." 

"A situation on a staff!" echoed Bob, refusing to 
see that his shoes were waiting ; " that 's worse than 
c)ld Simeon Slylites, you told nie ahout. lie had a, situ- 
ation on a ])illar, but if the pillar was a good soft 
one — " 

"And," went on IJrunette, overridiyg the coinment, 
"when he fails utterly to bo good for anything, and 
the editor gives him up as a bad job, and presents 
him with a letter of introduction and recommendation 
to some other editor, then the papers say that lie has 
'severed his connection with the Trombone, and is 
now enjoying a vacation pre])aratory to entering a 
larger Held of usefulness.' Now I have always felt as 
though 7" might write for the news|)apers — " 

"Dear me, dear me," exclaimed the mother, putting 
the remaining boot-buttons into the wrong box, 
"you've got it, the what 's-his-name scrihendi — I 
never could pronounce the other word — and they say 
people never recover fiom Jt." 

" Is it catching '? " asked Bob, looking with largo 
eyes from one to the other, " and will it keep nio out 
of school?" 

" I think not," retorted Brunette ; " you '11 have it 
very lightly, if at all. I don't believe you will even 
break out with it. Persons of your complexion rarely 



ACCEPTING A SITUATION. 45 

do," she said, in a milder tone, looking at the fair face, 
bhie eyes, and blonde hair, which offered so decided a 
contrast to her own. 

" Now, Brunette, don't underrate your brother," 
said the ruotlier. " I have often heard it said that great 
men are more frecpxently light-complexioned than dark, 
and — " 

" The only great man I ever saw," interrupted Bru- 
nette, "never changed his complexion at all, but 
stayed one color all the time, a sort of gray blonde." 

'■'• And,^'' said the mother, rebuking her daughter by 
this little emphasis on the conjunction, " a very wise 
friend of mine once told me that the great majority 
of celebrated persons have been blue-eyed," and she 
smiled as she Diet her daughter's dark orbs. 

"Yes," said Brunette, "he had pronounced blue 
eyes himself, I suppose." 

"I don't know about the jironuncriation of his eyes," 
replied the mother, dreamily, "they were certainly 
blue enough. When I was a child and went to coun- 
try spelling schools, the teaclier always used to B])eak 
of 'putting out' the Avords, instead of pronouncing 
them. In that sense, if ' |nitting out' is pronouncing, 
as my wise instructor thought, one of my friend's eyes 
was certainly ' pronounced,' afterward ; l)ut then, 
again, when it was pronounced, it ceased to be blue, 
did n't it ? " 

"Mother," said Brunette, tenderly, "if you had 
been born a few ages later, you would liave been a 
great woman. I never shall be, but I 'm going to try 
to earn.,niy board and clothes in this town, and I 'm 



46 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

going to do it by writing, if possible. I don't exj^ect 
to earn much at first, but it does seem to me that with 
what you have spent on my education, and with my 
knack at writing, I might make at least my board out 
of my pen this year." 

" What nonsense, Brunette ! " cried Bob. " People 
make a pen out of boards, not board out of pens. 
You 're just turned round with Avriting so many 
verses. I read the other day in a paper, that it is n't 
a good plan for girls to go to college, because no 
female brain can stand the strain of hard study ; and 
if you keep on with your verses, and get a chance to 
do newspaper work too, it will be every bit as bad for 
your brain, as college ; and the first thing we know, 
we shall have a full-blown idiot in the family." 

Brunette gasped. " Is this," she said, as soon as 
she could get her bi-eath, " is this the viper that I 
have been hemming pocket handkerchiefs for, all the 
afternoon? This is what comes of allowing babes 
and sucklings to read newspapers ! And now, Robert, 
do you gather up all my stereographs and put them in 
the box, and don't ask for them again, until you can 
be civil. And remember that nobody with any kind 
of a brain, be it male or female, likes pert little boys ! " 

Brunette's nonsensical remarks about the difficulties 
of accepting a situation, were not altogether without 
foundation. "In order to accept a situation," said 
she, as she started bravely out on her quest, "first 
find your situation." She went systematically about 
her search, and made thorough work of it. This edi- 
tor had no vacancy ; that one employed no women, 



ACCEPTING A SITUATION. 47 

excepting in the composing-room ; the other would 
like her help, but really could n't afford another 
assistant ; a fourth employed nobody but college 
graduates ; (and Brunette thought, with grim amuse- 
ment, of some of the liberally-educated syntax which 
she liad noticed disporting itself in the columns of his 
journal) ; and a fifth, who needed no more help just 
now, consoled her by being certain " that if it were 
generally known that Miss Smith would accept a place 
as assistant editor in a newspaper office, vacancies 
would appear in shoals." The idea of a shoal of 
vacancies caused Miss Smith to smile in her sleeve. 

But at last Fate relented, and she " accepted " a 
situation in the Daily Adviser office, a place in winch 
she hoped to make herself generally useful. She was 
to attend to the literary and miscellaneous part of the 
paper ; to provide for the funiTy column ; to be 
responsible for the book notices, and look after the 
magazines ; in case the local editor was overworked, 
to try her hand at reporting; if the news editor were 
absent, or ill, to don his mantle, and wrestle with the 
badly-written, oily-smelling, tissue-paper telegrams ; 
and when the chief editor was called away by busi- 
ness, to occupy his place as a pea might occupy a 
cocoa-nut shell. But Brunette was neither inefficient 
nor indolent ; and if her life was hard and laborious, 
it was also useful and independent. After the first 
trial of getting accustomed to her duties, she liked 
her work, and enjoyed the sense of earning her own 
living. And Bob's respect for her grew apace. 



VI. 

THE MOUSE-TRAP. 

" The mice arc knoe-doep in the ])antry," said Bru- 
nette, coming out of that apartment with an ohl lion's 
wing in one hand, and a dust-i)au half full of crumbs 
and litter in the other. 

The nu)ther was not su.r2)riscd, being accustomed to 
Brunette's habit of exaggeration under excitement. 
" I know it," she replied sadly. " T can't put a nameable 
thing in there that is n't either run over, gnawed, or 
eaten up outright. 1 liave to wash beforehand every 
dish I use. And they got into the napkin-box and ate 
holes in three of those pretty pink and white napkins 
last Aveek, and actually chewed out all the ' puddings 
and pastry' ])ages of Mrs. Shaw's cook-book to make 
a nest ^— " 

" What will Mrs, Shaw say J*" asked Hob, who was 
busy magnifying a mealy-bug that he had found on 
the oleander, 

" The cook-book written by Mrs. Shaw, then," 
amended the nu)ther, " and she '11 say buy another, but 
wliatever shall I do with 'em'?" 

" First catch your mice," suggested Bob, under his 
breath, as lie posed the mealy-bug anew with a pin. 

"What are cats for?" asked Brunette, gloomily 
48 



THE MOUSE-TRAP. 49 

eyeing Aureus Superbus, who was boxing a bottle- 
cork about the floor. 

" If that is a conundrum, I give it up," replied the 
mother, at that moment stepi)ing on the cork, and, 
under the momentary impression that it was the cat's 
foot, nearly dislocating her own vertebrie in trying to 
lighten her weight on the sui)posed i)aw, — "excepting 
to suggest that they are for the purpose of being 
always under foot," she added with mild wrath, as 
she recovered her balance. 

" I know what cats are for," struck in Bol), " they 
are to sit in tlie window and look comfortable. I 
heard you say that a plump, well-fed cat sitting in a 
window^, gives a nawful comfortable and contented 
look to a house, liut Aureus never sits in the window 
only when I liold her there with both hands, and then 
she don't look comfortable worth a cent." 

"Whatever mother said, she did n't say nawful," 
replied liruuette ; "and I 'd like to know how a cat is 
going to look comfortable where you are," suddenly 
wheeling over to tlie cat side of the argument. " I 'd 
rathei- be a dog and bay the moon — " 

" I don't think dogs obey the moon half as well as 
cats do," interrui)ted Bob. " Did you hear 'em last 
night ? " 

" The Cat certainly does n't seem to be much help 
against the mice," said the mother, returning to the 
original question. " We can't jmt her in the ])antry to 
catch 'em, because she knocks all the dishes off the 
shelves ; we can't })ut her in the cellar-way closet, 
3 



60 THE TEIANGULAK SOCIETY. 

because she steals more than the mice do ; and wo 
can't put her down cellar, because you say she blacks 
her feet in the coal-bin — " 

" I wonder if she don't ? " retorted Brunette. "Just 
look at my antimacassar on the jjarlor lounge ! It 's 
a sight to beliold ! " 

" I thought so when you finished it," agreed the 
mother, " A baggy-trovvsered boy in a slouch hat, and 
a short-waisted skimp-skirted girl in a poke bonnet, 
teetering on a slab across a saw-log, with esthetic cat- 
tails in the middle distance. But it certainly was n't 
improved by black cat-tracks in the background, I 
admit, although Mr. Whistler might say they made a 
symj)liony of it. But I really don't see how the cat 
can be expected to catch the mice if she is n't allowed 
to go where they are, and they can't bo ])ersuaded to 
come into the kitchen in broad daylight and let her 
catch 'em." 

" Pshaw ! She would n't catch one if he should 
come out and ask her to, " retorted Brunette. 

" Now, Brunette, that 's too bad," exclaimed indig- 
nant Bob, " she has caught a mouse, with a bell on, 
too." 

" A mouse with a bell on ! I can't believe it," replied 
his sister. 

"No, the cat herself had a bell on. I put it on 
myself, so I could tell wIkju she was under the shed," 
said Bob, " and I think she was real smart to catch a 
mouse while she had a bell on, and it shows just how 
much sense there is in that old story about the mice 



THE MOUSE-TRAP. 51 

getting together and planning to bell the cat to keep 
her from catching 'em. I don't believe in fables, any- 
how," said skeptical Bob, stoutly. 

" What became of the mouse she caught ? " inquired 
Brunette, sticking to the original proposition, and fix- 
ing Bob with her glittering eye. 

"The mouse? 0,1 took him away from her and 
put him in niy mouse-cage," answered Bob, bhishing 
a little, but still cheerful, " and he does nothing but 
eat and eat and eat, and I 'm afraid he '11 die of fatty 
de-what's-his-naine of the heart." 

"Is it contagious?" asked Brunette, severely, "if 
so, I wish he would, and give the disease to all his 
kindred. I can't sleep nights for the dancing-parties 
they hold in the walls, and half my time goes to hid- 
ing things from them and clearing uj) after them ; and 
when the cat catches one, by accident, or, more likely, 
when a si)e(dally old and miserable mouse gets tired 
of living and walks into her mouth, why. Bob takes it 
away and makes a pet of it ! " 

" Well," mildly pursued the mother, hanging up the 
broom in the cellar-way, " surely, nobody can blame 
the mice for eating what they can find, if nothing hin- 
ders them ; and nobody can blame the cat for not 
catching them when she can't get at 'em, or for not 
eating them when they are rescued from her very 
jaws. The real sinner seems to be Bob." 

"He always is," muttered Bob, aside. 

" I suggest a trap to catch Bob," said his sister. 

" A trap ! the very thing ! " exclaimed the mother, 



52 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

joyfully. " A trap won't gnaw things, nor break dishes, 
nor get its feet black clambering over the coal — " 

" Of course it won't," said practical Bob, " who ever 
heard of such a thing? And I hope you '11 get a trap 
that '11 catch 'era alive, and then I '11 have a mate for 
my mouse in the cage, and — " 

" And establish a mouse factory," interrupted Bru- 
nette. " And ])resently have all the mice that the 
country needs." 

" Let me see ! " mused the mother. " I used to have 
a mouse-trap, one of those choking, strangling, hang- 
man's traps that caught the poor things by the neck 
and suffocated them, I gave it away to somebody 
when we moved. Is n't it funny that you never give 
away anything without needing it afterward ? " 

"Nothing but the mumps," muttered Brunette. 

" But," said the mother, " is n't there a new-fash- 
ioned trap advertised, that will catch but not choke, 
scotch but not kill, cheer but not inebri — " She felt 
that she was running off the track, and ended with, 
"It must be awful to die for want of breath." 

After much discussion ])ro and con, and sundry 
consultations with the neighbors as to the most effect- 
ual and merciful Tiind of mouse-trap, the matter was 
settled by a magnanimous acquaintance, who said he 
liad been greatly annoyed by mice in his counting- 
room, and kindly volunteered to lend the family his 
new jiatent trap ; a splendid affair, shaped like a 
Derby hat, or the snow hut of the Esquimaux, only it 
was built of bright wire, had a street door and a sky- 



THE MOUSE-TKAP. 63 

liglit for the mice to <^o in nt, and another door for tlie 
convenience of putting in bait and taking out tlio 
dead bodies of the mice which were expected to go 
in after it. Tlic entrances were lanes of horizontal 
wires a little smaller at tlie inner ends, and the mice 
were exi:)ected to crowd themselves in by springing 
these wires a little, and then to eat so much that tliey 
could not get out at the same holes. The trap even 
had a wire ring in the platform, intimating with siksiit 
eloquence that its work of extirj)ation would soon be 
done, and then it could be hung up against the wall 
as a high-art decoration, a sort of nocturne in steel- 
color. 

" I wonder the inventor did n't light that trap with 
gas," murmured Brunette, " and have Sebago put in. 
It lacks nothing else of all that cheers an<l emjjellishes 
civilized life. No mouse of common sense will ever 
want to come out of it after he once gets in." 

Ihit n<jbody ever had a chance to see whether a 
mouse could or would get out of it or not, since no 
mouse showed the least disposition to get in. The 
mother, Avho believed in treating borrowed things 
with courtesy, carefully cut a circular piece of paper 
to fit the floor of the trap, so as to keep it from being 
grease-spotted by the bait, and then as carefully depos- 
ited the bait (a nice ])iece of cheese, bought at Wil- 
son's for eighteen cents a ])Ound ), in the middle of the 
paper, and placed the edifice in the j^antry over night. 

" If we find it crowded full of mice in the morning," 



54 



MM 110 MMM ANdlMiAi; 8(>("lK/rV, 



asktnl hIu', witli lirr usiimI iifonciicss l.o Itorrow trouble, 
'' wliMtcvcr mIimII wf <l() w'illi 'cm V" 

" Till. \mii ill my av^o for |»('Ih," luiHWi'nMl l>ol». 

"Dntwii 'cm, li'Mp Mild nil, Miid Uoh'K <ihjl!;h with 
\'m," liloodi liirsl ih iciiKirUcd r>niii('t tc. 

" )'(>u. miist^ do il tlii'ii," replied lln^ molluM'. " 7" 
iie\cr w ill pill llielr.ip imder \v;iler, mid wjiteh tlu^ 
poor lliin;',M until tlii<_v slop hiilililin'j;/' 

r»iil il was e\ id«'iit. in I lie uioniinn' tlial nobody 
would I'c distressed \>\ \\\o lMil)l)lin;i,' oi' <lro\\ niii!!,' inicn 
dial dav. I'll*' mother ros(< iiiieoiumoni v early, and 
op(>ned lln> pautrv door willi haled hreatli to examine 
tin* hailed trap heldre she had even started up the liro. 
Slu^ Itt'held tlu* trap, (Miipty, surrounded hy a I'ircMilar 
Avindrow of chew cd paper. The mice had gnawed Iho 
paper »>n all sides niilil i( looked liki> a pattiM'iiol" a 
cirenlar saw, had drawn il l>elw(>i'ii the wires until 
iliev coiiltl reach the cheese, had de\ourcd the cheese, 
lu>ld }| «lanc(M»l' triunipli iiftiM- their I't^nst, and cvidenlly 
«lopMrted ill hi^h oood luiiiior, alliM' liaviii^' oaton out 
till* oiilirt" insid(* works ol" a hapless bisenit which Uru- 
nclte had inad\ «>rli>iilly Icl'l on the shelf. Tlu" mother 
drew a loniji,' bn>atli, and nttcnnl aloud to tlu> solitary 
kilcheii, " Well, 1 never! " 

In theory, the trap was absolnti'Iy perfect ; in prao- 
tiet>, the family was si)on obliged to ai;ree (hat, in Iho 
>V()rds of l>ob, who was born down St>uth, " it was n't 
worth corn shucks." 

Mii>lit t\>IK>\\ Cil ni;\lit with tin* same result ; tlu> bait 



Til 10 MOIIMI'". 'I'l.'AI'. 



66 



\v;iH \;iri<'il willi ;i, iicrsiHl-cncd :inil iiiL^n'iiiiiry vvliidi 
WdiiM li;i\c liiiiiiMcil Miss I'.'irl'i;!. lici'Sfir, ;ili(l rvfl-y 
|t(iM,sil)l(' iiidiicciiiciil, oITcimmI to roMX IIki iiiicd l,<) <'iil.('l* 
tlid (r;i)i. In vain. 'I'licy cvrn sccnKMl l,o hriii;^ for- 
n;^(< Ironi rcMioif corncis ni (lie |i:nil.iy, :nii| ln»I<l 
picnics round tlic l,r:i|), icivin;^ iJicir (•runil»H l.licrc- ;ih ji 
IcslinnMiy .'mil a, H('(»rnin;_(. Indeed, r.ninel,l,(i <Mitiin;fIy 
rein;irL(i|, " I dee|;iie, I Itelieve l.liis l,ra|» is l,li<r only 
h|ii)t ni I lie iiouse //(// inl'eslcd hy ini(t('. l\l(»l,lier, 11' 
yiin lia\i' anylliin'f wliieli yon wish parl/n^darly l.o 
ki'e|t away IVoni 'eni, I recorntnend yon lo |miI< il, in 
til is lra|> ! " 

" I iM'vcr shall ^et, a, male to my inonsc al, iJiis rate," 
Haid l»ol», in despair. " I helicvc il 'h Ix-ejiilHe t,h(! trap 
is so new and si ylish, and ihey 're afraid l-o mov<^ in. 
'I'liey Ihink the rent is too liif;h," 

After some self-coinmimin;^ as to whether it wonid 
«|o to so loolv a. f^ift horse, or a, loan horse, in the 
month, llie mother ventnre<l to remark to the eonrteons 
owner, th.at: for s<Mne reason she had f.ailed completely 
to catch anylhin'^'in his trap. Il<' lanidied lond and 
lon;^. 

" W'l'll, 1 'm rill (,r the trap, anyw.ay ! " ho Haid. 
"I 've had that, set, in :i <lr!iwer in iiiy oOice tlirco 
months, .and ni'ver cau'dil, a mouse, in the lirsl, pi.ace, 
t.hey ate all the papers aronnd it,, wit,lionl, .appearing 
to notice the tr.ap :M, ;dl ; then as I persisted in keep- 
ing it, Het, in their \\a\, they airtn.allv went, into it,, .al,e 
the l»,ait,;md went, out, ,a;;aln, to show me their opin- 
ion of the patent,. ( )r, more likely, they (,ook it for a, 



56 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

cli;iri(:i.l)Ki ri-iH'-liincIi |il:u'(', w Iumh' tlii'}" coiilil v.xi .it 
their leisure, al)s()liit('ly safe from oUh. I was very 
c^lad of a cliaiioe to lend it. I beg you won't take the 
trouble to send it home a<>ain. In fact, ])08session is 
nine |HMnts of the law, and 1 will gladly throw in the 
other jH)int, and make you a j»resent of the trap 
Charnu'd, I 'm sure ! " 

"If v\vv 1 liave a lK)use built," said IJrunette, onco 
more emerging from tlie pantry, witli a dust-|>an full 
of mousi'-gnawi-d [iaj)er-clii|»s and the fragments of 
Bob's last ear of [>op-eorn, " I 11 ha\ i' it built on tho 
j)rineii)le of that trap, keep it well baited, and so have 
Jin establishment entirely mouse-proof. Look at this ! " 
and she shook out, — while iluffy fragments of white 
linen flew around her like a stage snow-storm, the cur- 
rent table-eloth, which, having been giiawed <|uito 
through its thlekness while it was foldi'd, now pre- 
sented a view of sixteen holes, eight in a row, each as 
large as oiu-'s list, — making the breadth of unlueky 
damask look like the front si(k> of a pigeon-house. 

''Ill fares the house to liasteuing woes a prey 
"Where miee aeeuuuilale and table-el«)ths decay," — 

she said, drop})ing it in a ragged heap. 

"That's a needless Alexandrine," said the mother, 
with a face of dismay, "■ and I shall have to get one of 
those choking, strangling, suffocating, horrible hang- 
man's traps, after all ! " 



VI I. 

A CHRISTMAS rilESENT. 

It wiiH !i hl<';ik :unl l)I<)\vy iiKtriiiiiL^ iiciir ( IliriHl,in;iH, 
and I>riiti(!l1(! was on licr way io licr daily work. Il 
vvaH too oarly yd lor tlio ornairKailal |»ail of i\n'. |><)|t- 
ulation to bo antir ; the liniiian buttcrdioH and Iiiiiii- 
min;^-l)irds wd-c slill <'iij<>yiii.!-;' tlicir bcaiity-sl('c|) ; only 
tlio workinj^ bees wt-ro visiblo, Mcrlianicrt, /^oin<4' to 
tlie scent! of their day's labor, and not much in a liiirry 
to an'i\'c thoi'c ; errand boys, tryini;' how Iom;^' (licy 
couhl bo in passinjj;' a^^ivoii point; a I'ow ch'an-a|)roned, 
whit(!-cIoinh'd Irish women, witli market-l);iHk<!ts ; trim 
saleswomen, hiirryin!^ to their counters; sho|)-<^irIs, 
wil h a t iiimbU' mark on the ii'j,ht mi(hllo (nij^er ; and 
Ji lew unsiinne(l-lookin<^ men-clerks, inado up tho 
iriajority of podostriariH, 

I<'ar ahearl, in tlu* mi(Mle of the sidewalk, lirainetto 
dos(!ried a small object, of ;i, brownish /jfin<jj<!r-color, 
which presently slit! p(!rceived lo ])o a little do<^. 
Everybody who jtassed it, either joslJeij or jeered at 
it, and the poor little animal seeme<l too much at a 
loss to make oven an attempt at jotting out of tho 
way. iJninelte knew evei'y (\()'^ whos(! horno or boanl- 
iiig-j)laco was on lior boat, and she was instantly sure 
that this little dog was a stranger. As she drew 
3* f)? 



I 



58 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

nearer, she perceived tliat he was not only a stranger, 
which, was bad enough, but a vagabond, which was 
worse. He was a Dandie Dinmont terrier, witli the 
long, low, ungraceful body of his kind ; but he had a 
beautiful head, a handsome, intelligent face, long, 
silky ears, and a lovely pair of brown, clear, mellow 
eyes. His fringy tail was draggled and dirty ; his 
coat was tangled with dead leaves and fragments of 
sidewalk litter, which betrayed that he had spent at 
least one homeless, comfortless night in some lee 
street corner, where trash and fallen elm-leaves had 
gathered to keep out of the wind ; his soft ears were 
rough and unkempt ; and he was shivering miserably 
in the sharp air. Brunette always bade good morning 
to all the dogs she met, and she did not slight this 
one. 

" Why, doggum," said she, " why do you sit here in 
the way, where everybody hits you ? Go up by the 
wall, where people won't step on your toes." 

He had been gazing wistfully up and down the 
street, looking at nothing in particular, but the moment 
lier voice touched his ear, he sprang up, put his dirty 
paws against her dress, and wagged his disreputable 
tail, while his eyes fairly shone with intelligent and 
delighted welcome. Like the ancient mariner, he 
knew instantly to whom his story must be told. Bru- 
nette conversed with him a minute, and passed on. 
The dog followed, as though he had been waiting only 
for her. 

"But, doggum," remonstrated she, "you mustn't 



A CHRISTMAS PRESENT. 59 

follow me. Your inaster is probably in one of these 
stores ; you must wait here until he comes out." At 
the same time, Brunette felt a strong misgiving as to 
tlie pnjbnbility that anybody from Gorliam, Scar- 
borough, or Moderation Mills, was shopping in Con- 
gress sti-oot at that early hour. She returned to the 
spot where she lirst saw the dog. " T must leave you 
where I found you," she said, " I can't Ijo accused of 
stealing a dog in this pul>lic marmer. ' Go back ! " she 
said, as with eager eyes fixed on her face, he followed 
her every step. " Go back ! " she repeated, but 
although the words were peremptory, she could not 
make the tone sharp enough to terrify or detach her 
new friend. 

A chivalrous boy, happening to pass at the moment, 
and seeing her perplexity, gave the dog a little kick, 
in her behalf, and that settled the matter for the pres- 
ent. Brunette could not scold or threaten a dog 
which had been kicked for her sake, and in her 
interest ; so she said no more, but went on her way, 
feeling sure, with some sinking of the heart, that the 
dog's nose was just touching her skirt behind. When 
she reached the office door, she paused, and tried to 
argue with him anew; but he only smiled, and slipped 
ill with her. When he saw that she was going up 
stairs, he bounded up a step ahead of her, and waited 
at tlie top to see what she would do next, shrinking 
close to her when slie came up, as one who says, " I 
have no friend but you." As she went into the 
library and seated herself at her desk, he gravely 



60 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

observed her, and perceiving that she was at home, he 
lay comfortably down on the edge of her dress, with 
his nose between his paws, and took a long, relieved 
breath, which said, "My troubles are all over, — -I am 
safe." 

All day he lay there, apparently sleeping, but occa- 
sionally waking to gaze in her face a moment with 
affectionate eyes, or touch her hand with his quiver- 
ing, sensitive nose. If any one entered the room, he 
did not raise his head, but looked up askance, with a 
little thrill of the ears, which showed him to be keenly 
observant. When at last the day's work was done, 
and Brunette rose to go, he was alert in a moment, 
his eyes bright Avith expectancy and interest, and he 
followed her into the street like her shadow. 

" What will mother say ? " was the uppermost 
thought in her mind. "How can I tell her that I 
have stolen this dog ? for that's what it amounts to. 
I feel precisely like a thief. I wonder if I shall meet 
the owner? and if I do, what can I say?" and poor 
Brunette was so perplexed by her new treasure, that 
she even tried to hide herself from him. It was 
nearly dark, and the shadows were growing dense ; 
she stepped behind a tree-box as she turned an abrupt 
corner, and held her garments tightly about her, that 
he might not discover her. She saw him look about, 
for a moment, then put his nose to the ground, and 
come straight to her hiding-place, wagging his tail 
apologetically, as though saying, " Excuse me for hav- 
ing got out of your sight a minute, it shall not haj^i^en 
again ! " And it did not. 



A CHRISTMAS PRESENT. 61 

Arrived at home, she explained matters as best she 
could to the mother, whose heart melted at the dog's 
friendlessness and evident desire to make himself 
popular. Bob and he were friends in two minutes ; 
in fact, the dog was so eager to recommend himself 
to his new acquaintances that he could hardly stop to 
eat the supper that he so evidently needed. After- 
ward, he went about the house and examined it criti- 
cally and carefully, with the air of one who has just 
moved in, and then, apparently satisfied, took his 
place in the family circle, as though he had belonged 
there a thousand years. 

"How are we going to find out his name?" que- 
ried Bob. " Here, doggie, have n't you got a card 
about you ? " 

" He does n't look as though he ever saw a card, or 
a comb either," said the mother, " and clearly he 
has n't had one about him for some time. Whatever 
shall we do with him? I can't bear to turn him out, 
this cold night, and if he stays in, he'll fill the house 
with fleas." And as though to corroborate her 
remark, the dog began to scratch his ear with his hind 
foot, in the most vigorous fashion. The subject was 
not pleasant, and Brunette led the conversation back 
to the matter of his name. 

" The only way I can suggest, of finding out his 
name. Bob, will be to call him by every canine name 
you can think of, and if you happen to get the right 
one, he will brighten up and recognize it." 

No sooner said than done. " Here, Skip, Flii), Gyp, 



62 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Trip, Snip, Brisk, Frisk, Whisk, Pedro, Carlo, "Rollo, 
Lion, Tiger, Bear, Flusli, Dash, Pepper, Frolic, Fido, 
Ginger!" called Bob, growing louder and louder 
with every word, and clapping his hands, as he ran up 
and down the room, while the excited dog "brightened 
u]) and recognized " every name he uttered, and join- 
ing in the wild dance, barked vociferously, while the 
rest of the family held their hands to tlieir ears. 

" Mercy on us ! " cried Brunette ; " hush! Have you 
been reading a dog's directory, or wherever did you 
find all those names, I wonder ? " 

" But you told me to call him nine names, and I 
could n't sto]) to count." 

" I told you to call him ca-nine names, and you 
called him ca-nineteen," said Brunette, with severity. 
*'But it 's clear that the dog does n't need any special 
name, since he responded to every one of them." 

" It 's the tone that he recognizes, not the name," 
said the mother. " You can see that by trying him 
with a name that can't possibly belong to him, and 
that he probably never heard in his life. Here, Atha- 
nasius, Nioodemus, Montgomery, Gustavus Adolphus, 
Hieronymus, Ichthyosaurus, Plantagenet, Memphre- 
magog, Tiglath-Pileser, Halicarnassus ! " called she, 
in a tone that would wheedle a bird off a bush. And 
the responsive animal, delighted at his sudden ])opu- 
lai-ity, came across the room like a catai)ult, and si)rang 
into her lap with a force that bounced the breath out 
of her body. " You see," gasped she, " he does n't 
care what we call him, so he 's only called ! " 



A CHRISTMAS PRESENT. 63 

" Now lot me try," said Brunette. " Here, Some, 
One, Any, Otlier, All, Such, Either, Neither, Yet, 
Nevertheless, Notwithstanding ! " And the eager ani- 
mal, quite beside himself at so much attention, vaulted 
across the corner of the table into her lap, nearly 
upsetting the kerosene lamp in his progress, and utter- 
ing a volley of barks that might have awakened a 
Congress street policeman. 

" After all," said tlie raotlier, in a tone of voice 
which somehow seemed suddenly dull and changed, 
" after all, what do we care what his name is ? What 
difference does it make to any one of us ? Who 
started the question, anyway ? " 

Brunette looked at her mother, surprised at her 
sudden change of base, and beheld her ruefully regard- 
ing an ugly three-cornered I'ont in her dress, a hole 
evidently made by the dog's sudden onslaught. 

" Dogs are always rough and destructive when they 
try to be sportive," said the frugal woman, " and pup- 
pies are specially mischievous. He's going to be 
advertised to-morrow, and his master discovered," 
and she regarded the poor animal with a look of cold 
displeasure. " I can mend a loorn hole with equanim- 
ity," said she, carefully placing together the frayed 
edges of the rent, " but — " 

" With what ? " interrupted Bob, opening his eyes, 
" I should think a piece like the dress would be best." 

" I was saying that I can mend a hole that has been 
worn, and feel that I am really accomplishing some- 
thing ; but I have small patience in mending a torn 



64 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

place. The fact itself is irritating, the Avork seems 
altogether unnecessary, and after it is finished, it 
does n't look as well as it did before. And this merino 
was to have lasted me all winter ! " 

" Mother," said Bob, " I have always noticed that 
after clothes are mended, they last forever. A mended 
garment is just like a cracked dish; it seems to outlast 
dozens of new ones. And the doggie did n't mean to 
tear it, and it 's too bad to call him a puppy, just for 
that ! " and Bob put on an aggrieved look, as though 
his new friend had received a deadly insult. 

" Anybody can see he 's a puppy, by his big feet, 
and his — his general air of irresponsibility," said the 
mother, relenting a little, as the dog, from the vantage- 
ground of Brunette's lap, looked back at her, smiling 
widely, with his thin pink tongue hanging out of his 
mouth by reason of his late violent exercise, and his 
beautiful eyes shining with delight at everybody's 
appreciation. 

When Brunette went her nightly round to fasten 
the doors and windows, the dog accompanied her, 
apparently taking note of every bolt and lock. And 
when, at bed-time, the mother spread a superannuated 
shawl on the hearth-rug (Bob said the shawl was 
meant for a feather-bed, but Brunette said it was to 
keep fleas out of the rug>, and informed the dog that 
his bed was made up, he took immediate possession, 
lying down at once, placing his chin on his paws — 
if a dog may be said to have a chin — and casting his 
eye up to the face of each of his admirers, as who 



A CHRISTMAS PRESENT. 65 

sliould say, "Xow you just go to 1)0(1, aud I Ml take 
care of tlio house. I shall kee[> very quiet unless I 
smell mischief, — then you '11 hear barking ! " 

And he kept his faith, speaking never a word until, 
somewhere about midnight or after, the nearest neigh- 
bor came l\ome from, probably, a Masonic symposium, 
and made such a racket with his latchdcey, that the 
watchful animal took the alarm and began sjn-eading 
it with all his might, barking, as Bob afterward said, 
" like a house a-tire," and bringing the mother hur- 
riedly into the sitting-room, in a wrapper and one 
slipper, to cpiiet him. As soon as he perceived that 
she heard the noise and understood it, he lay down 
again, remarking, by means of his eyes and tail, " O, 
the fellow is n't coming here ? Well, you know the 
tricks and manners of these people better than I do, 
but I shall learn. I 'm sorry I shouted at nothing. 
Go to bed again, I 'm asleep." 

His joy at meeting the family next morning, was 
really touching. " I never saw such a 'fectionate 
dog, " remarked Bob, " he 's all over everybody at 
once." The happy creature frolicked, and rolled, and 
whined, and bai'ked, and whenever a hand or a face 
came within his reach, he kissed it with the warmest 
and juiciest of kisses. 

" O mother," pleaded Bob, quite overconie by these 
demonstrations, " why can't we keep him? I'll shut 
the cat out-doors, so they need n't quarrel, or I '11 give 
the cat away altogether." 

" That would be the best method of civinir her 



66 THE TEIANGTJLAR SOCIETY. 

« 
aAvay," remarked Brunette. " I doubt if anybody 

would accept a cat by instalmeTits." 

" I 'ni talking to mother," said Bob severely. " And 
I '11 give up my pet mouse in the cage, and I won't 
ask for any more pets, or for fire-crackers, or any- 
thing ! Do let 's keep him ! " 

" lie 's a nice doggie," said Brunette, placidly, " but 
I really don't see how he 's going to answer for fire- 
crackers, when Fourth of July comes. And as for 
dis])osing of the cat, that would leave a hiatus in the 
family arrangements. As it is, we have a mouse to 
annoy the family, a cat to terrify the mouse, a dog to 
worry the cat, a boy to bully the dog — " 

" And a girl to badger the boy," interrupted Bob, 
" and mother, I wish you 'd manage the girl, and keep 
her from making game of me all the time. But why 
can't we keep the dog? What fun we could have 
together ! " 

"In the first place," said the mother, "with you at 
school, and Brunette at the ofiice, he would n't get 
exercise enough to keep him in health. Then we 
have no kennel for liim. Then he would presently be 
running away, and somebody Avould have to hunt him 
up. Then we could never leaAC the house for a week 
alone. And then we should have to pay a tax on him, 
and buy him a collar. And, last and best reason of 
all, he is n't ours." 

"True," said Brunette, "Thad forgotten that, too. 
Somebody, somewhere, is probably hunting for him 
this minute, and calling him by some name that we 



A CHRISTMAS PRESENT. 67 

have n't thought of. Here, Towsor, Bruiser, Cnesar, 
why won't you tell what your uauie is?" 

]MueIi as the Jog was pknvsed with all three of his 
new friends, he evidently considered Brunette his 
speeial charge, lie watched her with keen interest as 
slie prepared for lier daily departure, and as she went 
out, bounded aliead with a joyful bark, and followed 
her closely every step of the way. Arrived at her 
desk, he lay down at her feet as before, and all day 
long, at every odd minute, Brunette found herself con- 
tinually querying, "What shall I do with hini'?" 

After the paper went to press, the chief editor came 
into the library to give some directions about to-mor- 
row's work, and a bright thought occurred to Brunette. 
She rose witli a bow, and said, with perfect gravity : 

"It is the hapjiy Christmas-time, the era of good 
wishes, good feeling and good gifts. It is emhicntly 
fitting that I should present to my employer some 
token of my respect and esteem. Allow me, then, to 
present to you all my right, title, and interest in this 
excellent and valuable animal, the only Dandie Din- 
mont in to^^^l. The gift may not be commensurate 
with the occasion, but it is all I have to give. Angels 
could know more, perhaps; but they could n't give 
more freely." 

She had only intended a solemn kind of joke, but 
to her amazement, the editor promptly accepted her 
testimonial, expressing his gratitude and pleasure, and 
stooping to caress his jirize. The dog licked his hand 



68 THF. TRTANGn.AK SOOTF.TT. 

with oifusion. nnd sooiuoil to un^loi-^tnnd the situation 
at onoo. 

" I must say that there is one drawback about the 
gift," admit ted l>runotte, as an unpleasant eontingeney 
occurred to 1um\ '' tlie dog is projuM-ly the subject of 
an advertisement in the 'Lost and Found' colvunn. I 
Avas going to invest a cent a line in advertising him, 
t^vmorrow. 1 touiul him. or rather, he discovered mo 
in the street, the day after the last English steamer 
sailed. As the sort of dog is not common liere. I am 
inclined to believe that he came on shore with some- 
body from that steamer, and got lost, being young, 
and unaccustomed to foreign travel. But he has fol- 
lowed me to and fro three times, and nobody claims 
him, nor does he try to tind anybody, or haunt any 
special place. l>ut 1 can't give a warranty with him, 
only a quitclaim." 

When she left the roon\, the dog rose and looked at 
her, but when she said, " Xo, this is your home now, 
and here is your master," he kissed her hand, and then 
lay down contentedly at the feet of his new proprie- 
tor, api>arently understanding the arrangement and 
agnving to it. 

He was duly advertised, Tiext day, and c o d i s t f, 
but nothing came of it. ITis home, thereafter, was 
the othce. He was called Toby, and h:id the freedom 
of the establishment, and a rug fv>r a bed in the 
libvarv. He still loved l>runette, but she became the 
iiccondarv object in his heart. Sometimes he would 



A CHRISTMAS PRESENT. GO 

go homo \vith hor at ovoning, aiul roturii after making 
a dignitioJ call. But ho wouKl uovor romaui away 
ffom tho ot^ioo over night, unless his master was out of 
town. Then ho wouKl attend Brunette homo, and 
defend her eastle with all his tii-st enthusinsm. Quito 
frequently, too, ho would start off alone, when*lio felt 
that ho oould leave tho otlioo business, and go up-town 
to have a game of romps with Bob and his playmates. 
In faet^ Bob deolarod that Toby could play hojvsooteh 
as well as any of the boys, and he believed, for his 
part, that Toby w:is a hojvSootch terrier. 



Yin. 

THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

"Mother!" said Brunette, at the tea-table one 
night, " I ant growing popuhir. They say a j>rophet 
is never honored in his own country, but I liave actu- 
ally been invited to join a literary society ! *' 

"Indeed! and what are the advantages?" asked 
her mother. 

" Oh, the privilege of complimenting and being com- 
plimented is one, I suppose," said irreverent Brunette, 
t:ikiug another biscuit, " but after writing and reading 
all day, I W rather stay at home evenings, I believe. 
Besides, I earn so many compliments from my own 
family that — "' 

"Why can't we have a little literary society ot our 
own?" suddenly asked the mother. "Now that you 
are accustonied to your office work, you ought to have 
something to read to us nearly every evening. And I 
don't want to be always jnit olf with verses; 1 want to 
hear some of your reports, and condensations, and 
local and miscellaneous articles, and — " 

*' Hear her, ye powers that smile ! " exclaimed Bru- 
nette, casting her eyes tragically upward, "she 
does n't want to be put oti" with poimd-cake, she 
wants corn-bread, and tripe and onions ! And what 
7U 



THE TRlANGULAll SOCIETY'. 71 

kiud of a litoravy society would it bo, with ono meui- 
ber doing all the writing and reading? It wouUl bo 
like ' a government by tlio people,' Avitli more than 
half the peoi)le left out — it is n't fair play." 

" Well, Bob and 1 have each a sernp-book from 
whieh we eouM make selections ; and too, I am an 
excellent listener, i take it there Aviil be a good deal 
of listening to be done. They also serve, who only 
sit and — " 

" Critieise," broke in Brunette. " Well, I agree. I 
see in the distance, a chance to bring before a select 
audience, lit though few, the waiting pages of my 
three-volume story." 

"Why can't we begin right away?" asked Bob, 
who, like most very young i)ersons, believed in '' no 
time like the present," when anything new was in 
pros])ect. 

'•1 never have belonged to a mutual admiration 
society," said Brunette, ''and a gentleman who admit- 
ted that he was a baeksliding member ot" one, was 
saying to me — " 

"Do you mean to say that the gentleman saiJho 
was a member of a mutual admiration society ? " asked 
the mother, smiling. 

"Oh, no, he called it a literary sixnety ; there are 
several in towi., and they are said to be exci'Uent in 
their influence and associations ; but he said they had 
their disagreeable side, too. That after awhile, the 
showier jiarts of the work — the articles Avrit ten, and 
read, and commented on — were all done by a few 



72 THE TEIANGULAK SOCIETY. 

persons, niul the rest of the members found tlicmselvos 
mere wall-flowers, relegated to the necessary, but in 
no way specially creditable duty of sitting- about and 
seeing other people distinguish tlieniselves. And 
from tlic fact that he had left the society, I judge that 
lie had played audience as long as he considered it his 
duty." 

" Well, we shall have no jealousies of that sort in 
our society," said the mother ; " our trouble will be 
that we are so few and so fond of eaeli other that we 
shall not feel a sufiicient spirit of rivalry to keep up 
our interest." 

" Our meetings will have several advantages," said 
Brunette. " They will require no worry of dressing 
and going out in tlie evening; they will cost nothing; 
we can defer them without trouble whenever it is 
necessary ; and they will be quite independent of the 
weather. What sliall we call our club?" 

"And Ave shall need no constitution or by-laws, and 
hardly a name, since our doings will not be adver- 
tised," said the nuither. 

"But wo must have a name," said Bob. "Let's 
call it the Triangular Literary Society, and begin 
to-night." 

"Xow I want to say," said the cautious mother, 
after tea was over, as the members of the home liter- 
ary society gathered around three sides of the table — 
there being only three members, it was imjiossible to 
occupy the fourth side — "I want to say that I do 
not wish to bo understood as endorsing everything 



THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 73 

that I have in my scrap-book. Endorsing it as excel- 
lent, or as a sample of my own best taste and judg- 
ment, I mean. Some of the articles I have included 
because of their oddity, or because I knew the writer, 
or because I have been in the place described, or 
seen the subjects, or sometimes, because people have 
given me the cuttings, and it is more convenient to 
have them in a book than on tlie mantel-shelf, in the 
match-box, or in the sewing-machine drawer." And 
she looked pleasantly across at Bob, whose slips were 
often tossing about the house for days, before being 
anchored in lus book. 

" And I sujipose Bob will have the same excuse for 
his contributions to the genei-al entertainment," said 
Bnmette, " so I shall be the only responsible party?" 

" Well, of course you '11 be responsible for your 
own productions," said the mother. 

" But, luckily, this is so free a country that I can 
have a scrap-book too," said Brunette. "And when 
I have doubts about the reception of an article, I can 
just credit it to my scrai>book." 

" You can never mislead us in tliat way. I should 
recognize any article of yours, i>rose or verse, wher- 
ever I miglit see it." 

" We '11 see," said Brunette. " But who is the old- 
est member of this club ? The oldest reads first." 

" Well, I 'm tlie nearest white-headed," volunteered 
Bob. But no one noticed his remark, and the mother 
o]>ened her book, and read the fii-st article which 
caught her eye. 
4 



74 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

THE DERWKNT DUCKS. 
Through the verdurous valle3^s of Derljyshire 

Flows the i)retty Derweiit river, 
Quiet and serious, slow and clear, 
While hazel and hecch-sprays, drooping near. 

To its music dance and quiver; 

Through bosky shadows and hanks of moss, 

Lazily, softly slipping; 
So narrow its channel that one nia}'^ toss 
AVith little elTorl, a jiebble across, 

And see whei'c it ceases skipping. 

Steep hills rise sharply on either hand. 

And nestling in gii^cncst hollows 
Clusters of small stone houses stand, 
ITalf-hurrow, half-nest, like the quaintly-planned 
lh)nics of the queer hank-swallows. 

So old, no doubt they were occupied 

In the times of torch and martyr; 
They seem grown into the slope's steep side, — 
And teiTaces, narrow and walled, divide 
The town into delluite .strata. 

I dou])t if the folk in the upper row 

Ai-e better than those lielow it; 
])Ut if stronger reason for higli and low 
Ever existed, surely no 

History lives to show it. 

lienealh, with a look of calm content 

And a slow and slumberous motion, 
The (piiet tide of the fair Derwent 
Kolls on, to join with ibe broader Trent, 
In its search for the l»^ .man ocean. 



THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 75 

Looking down from my ivied ncsl, 

In the misty iuilumu wcnlhci-, 
I watched two diiokH on the liver's l)reust, 
Side by side in their peaceful quest 

Sailing for days together. 

Their lives so happy and innocent, 

Into the past have drifted; 
They have be(;ii and arc gone — but where Derwent 
Lazily eddies in cool (content, 

'i'lK! secret is still unsifted. 

They were white and fair as the snow's fu'st, (lake, 
And their necks werc! smoolii and sup[)le; 

(I call them ducks for convenience's sake, 

Ijut one was a ducds, and one a drake, 
And tlie two were a pretty couple.) 

When oft at night through the shadows brown. 

Of autumn's mild forewarning, 
I looked from my lofty window down 
On the mossy roofs of tlu; sleej)y town. 

And bad(! tbein adieu till morning — 

I saw them <lim]y, two shapcts of snow. 

On the darkness of the waters, 
Railing social)]y to and fi-o, 
As loth to paddh; ashore and go 

Home to their sleeping quarters. 

And when, as soon as the daylight came, 

I looked for them down the river, 
I found them floating thei-(! all the same, 
As though night were nothing, and time a name, 
And they had been there forevc'r. 



7(5 THK TmAN(JlTl,Ai; SCX^Il'VPY. 

(Ill lli'iH tliill Idwn, wliicli is SUIT lo bo 

llMiny, r<','-',,L;.v <>i- niiKldv 
i\>i- I wo wlmlc (lays (Hil of cvciv IliiTO, — 
Tlicro 'h I't'ally so vi'vy liKhi lo sco 
That llu'si> Iw'o lovfi'S hccaim! to mo 

A luosli iihsorliiiiuj sludy.) 

Al lasl on a inorniiii;- cliill and ,i;ray, 

One rcallici'v sailoi' only 
IJrcaslcd llu> waves mI break of day, 
I'Moalini;' alxuil in an aiiulrss way, 

Silcnl , dishauubl and lonely. 

And day al'lerday weni by, inilil 

A Aveek bad dawned and depai'led, 
r»nl llu' losi one eanie noi, and sorrowinu; still 
'.riie wiilower lollowed bis waninij^ will, 
Languid and beav\ -beai'led. 

r>nl one lair niornin,L;' no eye (b'sei'ied 

'I'be wandei'er nnal tended ; 
!No wbile neek |)arled Ibe lini|iid lidi^; 
JS'o I'ond beai'ls lloaled Ibere, side by side — 

'I'be idyl was done and ended! 

On ball' my slory - perbaps Iwo-lbirds — 
|)o doubl and niyslery bover. 

Since wbal became of Ibose Iwo I'ond birds 

I cannot pnl into littinj;' woi'ds, 
I'^or 1 ni'\'er could discover. 

Did Ibey die, I wondei' and ask in vain, 
ii\ tlie under world or Ibe nppei'? 

1 )id Ibey dive, and fail lo come up ai;ain ? 

])id they sicken and [)erish, or were Ibey slaiu 
Por someboily's Sumlay sui)[)er V 



THE TRIANGULAIl SOCIETY. 77 

I novf.r s]i;ill know liow llii'ir livcH wf'n; rent 

And lli(;ir Inn; liciirls rci't uud bfokcn 
After Uu-Av sunnncr of (;;i,lni conlcnt — 
The (loom of (In; dncks on (lie <Iini Dervvent 
Must ulwiiyH I'eniiiin iinspokeni 

"Well, wli.'it I>ee;ini(! of 'eni ? " Msked I>oI), fliHeon- 
tente<IIy. " Why don't it tell what beeamo ol: 'era ? " 

"]>eeanse tli(! person who wrote the; v(!rHes appar- 
ently (]i(l n't know," replied his mother. 

" Well, T wiwli peoph; would n't try to t(!ll stories 
till they know the whole of 'em," said Uol). " T won't 
have anytliini^ in nnj book that (inds ri^ht in the air, 
like — like; llnnkcr Tlill monument," eonelndecl he, 
rath(!r distrustful of his simile, 

"Or tli(! Observatory," su<^^ested his locidly-inelined 
sister; " bul, where; else; Kh.oiihl, lliey end? Von 
would n't have either (jf those ci^lebrated edific(;s tura 
ov(!r at the toj) nnd L(row down into th(! fjjround ai^ain, 
lik(( a vvalkinj^ fern, or a bani;in-tree, would y<Mi ? That 
j)att(!rn might do for a triumphal ar(;h, but not — " 

"Don't W'jrry rnt; so," said Uob, diseomfited by bin 
sister's raillery. " \ only meant that I don't like to 
have all tli<! trouble of readin^^ a story, and then find 
that r must make all the hardest ftart of it myself. 
Anybody can hcjiin a story. I 've bej^un <lo/,ens of 
'em. Th(! job is (o (inisli 'em." 

" Hut JJob," said his mother, " nobody's story ends 
until h(! or she; dies, Y(jii vvouhl n't have uU stories 
end with a, funeral, would you?" 



78 THE TUTANGrLAR SOCIETY. 

" 'I'lio (lucks might :is wh'II linvo died cfimt'ortnlily," 
]>rrsist('(l lioh, '' as to havi' disapprarod in that divad- 
lul way. 1 sl>ould iVid oasicr aln)iit tlioin, if I know 
thi>v woro dead. Now, IJnnu'tto, it 's your (urn to 
road.'" 

".Alothor wantod to lu-ar souio of my |troso work," 
said l>run<>tti>, " and so I will road an articlo that I 
ha\i> jiisl linislird for the nowsp:\i)Or." 

"Wi'il, I hopo it isn't nu>lancholy," said liob — 
" so many of your art iolos have a inolanoholy tang — 
especially your vcm'sos." 

"T don't think I have put any Man;;"' of tnolan- 
o]u)ly in this," nnsworod slio, ^' but you shall judgo for 
yourself, Hob." 

Till'. OOCKKtWCir, 
The lark has Itnig iMijoyod a. monopoly of praise for 
early risniu;; the bee is the slerei^typed palt(M-n of dili- 
gence, and the ant has l^een quoted for industry and busi- 
ness habits i>ver suu-e the days of Solomon; hut all with 
niaiiil\>sl injustice, since neither of them, in eitlu'r par- 
ticular, begins to approach the cockroach, who, by some 
\uil'airm"ss of fat(\ has never been si>t up as an (>\ample 
ior youth, t>r a paltern of any shining vii-tui>. That lie 
distanct's the lark in early rising, is prt)V(-d by the fact 
that be besliis himst>lf at a (piart,er before four in the 
morning, works all day long and into the night, and goi>s 
to IhmI at forty-live minutes past tluH-e. 'I'lie palm for 
getting up early surely bi'longs to him; but as he does 
not, lik(> the lark, make it a i>oln( to sing while he is ris- 
ing, perhaps Ihi- fact is not generally noticed. 'I'he fact 



TIlFi TUrANfJUTiAU SOCIETY. 79 

fliiil lu' (Iocs not rccfivM! lilt' |)i'aisi' lie (Icscfvcs on (his 
scoi'i', ciiu only !»(' .•iccoiinlcd lor on Ihc cxtrcnu'ly iiculo- 
<|n;ilf |)li;i, lliiil Iiis ninnc is nol cnidionions. Nobody 
Willi Is (o s:iy: 

" IMsd witli (lie nncUniiicli, and with llio Odokroiuiii to bnd — " 
:um1 llicro woidd he :i- similar j)rcjndic(i ajj^ninsl, writing 

"■ lldW .loMi (he lillN' l.iisy t:nrkl-(i:i<ii 
linprovo (lacli Hlninii^ hour - " 

;ind if lln- wisest- of kingly (loiniscllors 1i:m! hrcn rcporlt'il 
as sayini;': 

"(Jo to tli(> (!(icknni(',h, Miou Hlti;:^;^iinl ; (mriHiddr his w.'iys Jiiid 
1)0 wiso," — 

liis rcmaiK would nol lie Iiall' so ol'lcn (jiiolcd in ropy- 
books, and in llif. addrt^sscs of school snpci'inlcndcnls. 
Itsccnis unjnsi, lliai (he, co(d<i*oach slionld he nia,de, (t) 
Kun'er lor his name ; a, name liiai lie nol only did not sni^- 
<^esl or iin ('III , I lial , so far as can lie !j,allici'C(l from him, 
he ne\('r «\('n eoiiseiihd lo, bill wliicli Was iii'obably 
llinisl upon him by some malicious enlom(ilou;islr. 

^'el siin'er he does, if I Ik.' depii val ion oi" jii'aiso properly 
<][ic is -A wroii'4. I'or surely tln^ cocUro.'ich, consideriiii^ 
Ills per,-everin;4 liabils, his melliodical ways, liis nnlii'ing 
indnslry, his conslaney Ihroii^h advci'sily, Ids palicnco 
under persecniion, ami his iiiiconiplainiiiL( adaplabilily lo 
circninslances, nierils grealer popidai'ily and (piolalion 
(hail any oilier known insecl. riiiice aposlrophized a 
persevering^ spider-; Sir dolin ! aibbocU has made himself 
ramoiis )>Y his inlimacy vvilh and admiralion of aids; an 
old poel iilenlilUMl liis name vvilh Ihaiof a, " busy, ciiri- 
oiis, Ihirsly H.y " ; hill who has sounded llie praises of Ihe 
coclNroach V Vel, no spidci- was evei- so persisLcnl, no anl, 
ever showed half such diabolical inLe'.HigiUlc«, no (ly wua 



80 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

ever so busy, (nnious, or thirsty as he. But noljody 
writes stanzas about him. To be sure, his name does not 
lend itself kindly to verse : 

" Busy, curious, thirsty cockroach, 
Drink with luc, and drink as I " — 
would never do, since it utterly refuses to favor either 
rhyme or measure. Auolher objection, though hardly 
worth mention, might be that no poet would ever think 
of inviting a cockroach to drink with him — though 
heaven knoAVs some poets have not been very particular 
in boon companions. 

The cockroai'Ii is said by the oldest inhabitant, to have 
reached I'ortland by water — to have been introduced 
from on ship-board to a i)ublic house much frequented by 
sailors, and thence to have spread through the city. 
Being thoroughly public-spirited, he is believed to be 
rather shy of jjrivate residences, though he refuses him- 
self to give the reason. 

l]ut ho abounds in cheap l)onrding-houses, he flourishes 
in store basements, he luxuriates iu low-pi'iced restau- 
rants, and he fairly revels in a printing-office — and it is 
chieflly with his tricks, manners and customs in this lat- 
ter locality that this record deals. Here he is at home — 
for he delights in piles of waste paper, he dotes on Avidc 
floor-cracks, half-filled with trash, old quads, match- 
stumps and dust, he enjoys getting stuck on the proof- 
rollers, he finds comfort iu crawling over the cheap sta- 
tionery in the editor's desk-drawers, and takes pleasure 
in packing himself away between rarely-used books. In 
a sanctum he feels safest between the Bible and a volume 
of patent-oiriee reports. He scampers on the editorial 
table, he holds meetings in the drawers, and when they 
are opened suddenly, he scurries by dozens under the 



THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 81 

papers, and pretends he is n't there, or overflows the 
edge and drops down on the floor to ouscouce himself in 
fi crack, or burrow in the contents of the waste-basket. 

But the height of his ambition is reached when ho 
manages to find the inkstand left unstopped, and suc- 
ceeds in drowning himself in the ink. The next time a 
pen is dipped therein, it is sure to pierce his thorax, and 
he is unwittingly drawn forth on the pen point and 
deposited on the fair white sheet of paper, a spectacle 
for gods and men, yet with an expression of gratified 
vanity on his countenance which is specially exasperat- 
ing to the angler. lie likes almost as well, however, to 
get into the mucilage-glass, where, as mucilage is never 
applied with a pen, excepting in cases of great absence 
of mind, he is pretty sure to remain, like a fly in amber, 
until the proprietor, disgusted with the appearance of his 
dishevelled legs, empties the whole thing out at the back 
window, and fills it afresh from the bottle. 

A remai'kable peculiarity of the creature, and one 
which makes him a calamity in a newspaper office, is his 
appetite for new books. Old standard works which have 
been smoked and seasoned for years on the library 
shelves, he never touches; but every new book he 
devours with an insatiable appetite and an unbounded 
stomach. He is not in the least difficult about his mental 
pabulum, but attacks alike history, classics, travels, 
school-l)ooks, and even volumes of verses, and every 
other new book, which comes into a ncwsj)aper office. 
Not that he cats the paper or the ink; but he goes over 
the cover like an army of locusts, gnawing off the sur- 
face and destroying the color, until the volume looks as 
though it had had a malignant form of small-pox, and no 

art can ever thereafter restore its complexion. 
4# 



82 THE TRIANGULAE SOCIETY. 

It was said with confidence durina; the late civil war, 
that up to the bej^inninsx Uiereof, nobody had ever seen a 
dead mule. It may have been true; but it is probable 
that up to the present date, nobody ever knew a roach to 
die in the course of nature, unhelped by premature 
squelching of one sort or another. True, liis shreddy 
remains may sometimes be seen on the floor, or adheriug 
to the cover of a book; but these are deaths by violence — 
the i)ressure of a vindictive foot, or the heedless or 
vicious slamming down of a heavy volume. It is plain 
that the roach has a much better constitution than the 
mule, although his ears arc not so long in the land. 

Vain are the devices of men against the cockroach's 
occupation of premises where he has once made up his 
mind to settle. Vainly the newspaper man searches the 
columns of domestic recipes in the rural prints — which 
have an ingenious way of publishing cook-books as 
serials, in a dearth of local news — to find some effectual 
method of destroying cockroaches. Methods there arc 
to be sure, by the score, but not one of them convinces 
the incredulous cockroach, or the newspaper man who 
tries it. The confident insect smiles on Paris green as 
gentle patience smiles on pain in the psalm, — and tracks 
it saucily all over the envelopes which he delights to 
promenade on; he turns up his nose at insect-powder, 
having no fear of powder that is unaccompanied by shot; 
lie contemns borax, alum, salt, lime and cucumber-par- 
ings, notwithstanding the rural papers declare that either 
will oust him; he laughs at all forms of tobacco, and 
even chews a little himself, sometimes, just to show that 
it is not offensive to him; he snuffs up camphor afar off, 
as the war-horse smelleth the battle, and hurries to fling 
himself into the midst thereof; and when some over- 



THE TRIANGULAK SOCIETY. 83 

confident soul thinks to flank him with chunks of carbolic 
soap, he covers his enemy with confusion by being dis- 
covered next morning, sitting calmly on the largest piece, 
pleasantly vibrating his antennae, as one w^ho should say, 
"Good vrholosome odor, is n't it? unpleasant to some 
folks, but I always rather liked iti " 

Somebody suggests kerosene oil as a means of con- 
founding him; another mentions turpentine, and a third 
recommends pennyroyal; but a hundred such scents 
make no dolor for him. He walks among them undis- 
mayed, pausing occasionally to smooth his feelers with 
his forelegs, as if remarking, " Rather discursive in per- 
fumes, these people, — but if they can stand it, I can I " 
Calcined plaster is recommended, but the cockroach 
accepts it as a new but in no wise alarming dispensation 
of weather, and even wears a little of it on his whiskers 
to show that he bears no hardness. Indeed it may be 
said of the cockroach as of some vermin with fewer legs, 
that his amiability amounts to a positive vice. 

It has sometimes been remarked, and with more truth 
than the philanthropist likes to admit — that the best 
peojole are not often the most popular; and by a similar 
freak of fate, the cockroach, though possessing a greater 
number of the cardinal virtues than the avei'age chris- 
tian, is regarded with dislike and aversion. His excel- 
lent attributes of patience, temperance, discretion, 
silence, and ability to live on the shortest commons, cer- 
tainly ought to endear him especially to the newspaper 
fraternity, whose whole fortune generally consists of 
these admirable qualities; but by a strange paradox, in 
no place is the cockroach more contemned and perse- 
cuted than in editorial rooms. He makes but an unprof- 
itable journey who carries owls to Athens. 



84 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Probably from Ibe tremendous vitalitj'^, lbs everlasting 
vigor and tbe iron constitution of tbe cockroach, his 
uninterrupted health, his long life, his contempt for 
poisons, and his freedom from all the thousand ills which 
other creatures are heir to, ai'ose the proverbial compar- 
ison which hag long been a puzzle to so many curious 
minds, " As sound as a roach." 

Considering his fondness for paste and book covers, it 
is astonishing how little gross material there is about 
even the most corpulent of his kind. Step on him, and 
you hear a loud crack; it is doubtful whether he hears it, — 
if he does, he knows it is the crack of his doom. 
Remove your foot, and only a few brown fibres and 
a tangle of thready legs remain, as all that was mortal of 
the cockroach. Numbers of his family meet their fate 
in this way; numbers more are destroyed by the office 
dog, who, in the absence of other game, frequently 
catches them at a disadvantage, far from a friendly crack, 
and pounds them to death with his clumsy paws. 

But although these and other malign influences sweep 
off man}' scattering individuals, on the whole few die and 
none resign, as Gen. Jackson acutely remarked concern- 
ing other office-holders; and when it is considered that 
they have a factory in every out-of-the-way corner, the 
producing capacity of which is not affected either by 
financial fluctuations or the weather, but has all seasons 
for its own, it is easy to see that it will not be necessary 
to import any more of them at present, since our 
unequalled facilities for home production will soon make 
it possible to raise all the cockroaches that the country 
needs. 

" Now I like that pretty well," said Bob ; " there 
is n't any melancholy tang to that, anyhow." 



THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 85 

"But it seems to mo to ' end in tlie air,' as you sai<l 
of my <luck story," said tlie motlier. "It certainly 
does n't kill off all the cockroaches." 

" I wish it did," said Brunette. " I have heard that 
rats may bo driven out of a house by h'aving in their 
haunts a written request for them to go ; but I fancy 
the cockroaches at the office will even endure this 
article, in good round print, without taking the 
hint." 

" Why, Brunette," exclaimed her mother, " you 
surely don't expect that article to be printed in the 
Adviser? It 's neither news, nor politics, nor relig- 
ion, nor market reports, nor ship news, nor — " 

"Nor advertisements, nor city business, nor deaths 
and marriages," rejoined Brunette ; " but I 'm going 
to try it. And even if the editor does n't accept it, 
there 's always one place where I can find room for 
anything I write." 

" Indeed ! and what 's the title of this accommo- 
dating medium between unappreciated genius and an 
indulgent public?" 

" It has several advant.ages over those publications 
known as the popular magazines," said Brunette ; " it 
never keeps a manuscript three or four years after 
accej)ting it ; it never refuses an article for lack of 
space ; it never makes any unpleasant remarks about 
stamjjs to ])ay return postage. In fact I never knew 
it to return or reject a manuscript." 

" It inust be a great favorite with young authors," 
commented the mother. 



86 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

" On the contrary, I don't think they appreciate it," 
said Brunette, "although the merest tyro has- just as 
good a chance in it as anybody, every article being 
admitted on its own merits, as it is no respecter of 
persons. Some of the best Avriters, it is said, have 
had poems, stories and essays in it ; in fact, it has 
probably contained a greater number of original 
})apers than any periodical in this country or Europe. 
It never pays its contributors, to bo sure, but the pro- 
prietor is thought to make quite a profit out of it." 

" But do tell me the name of it, and when and where 
it is published ? " said the wondering mother. 

" I did n't say it was published." said Brunette. " I 
only intimated that articles are inserted in it. It 
appears daily, and it is called," continued she, lower- 
ing her voice, and wiping an imaginary tear from one 
eye, "it is cilled — the waste-basket! " 

" 7Vnd now it is Robert's turn," said the mother. 
So, after some shuffling of leaves, as thougli much dif- 
ficulty were experienced in finding the place, that 
young person proceeded, to^ his mother's amazement, 
to read the following : 

HOW STRANGE IT WILL BE. 

.How strange it will be, love — how strange, when we two 

Shall be what all lovers become, 
"When love is no longer absorbingly new; — 
Not vulgarly faithless — not really untrue. 
But cool and accustomed; you, ceasing to woo. 
Grown thoughtless of me, and I careless of you, — 



THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 87 

Our pet names grown rusty with nothing to do — 
Love's bright web unravelled, and rent, and worn through, 
And life's loom left empty — O, hum I 
Ah, me I 

How strange it will be I 

How strange it will be when the witchery goes 

Which makes me seem lovely to-day; 
When your thought of me loses its tint-of-the-rosc — 
When every day serves some new fault to disclose, 
When you criticise sharply, eyes, chin, mouth and nose, 
And wonder you could for a moment suppose 
I was out of the commonplace way; 
Ah, mcl 

IIow strange it will be I 

How strange it will be, love — how strange, when we meet 

With just a chill touch of the hand I 
When my pulses no longer delightedly beat 
At the thought of your coming — the sound of your feet, — 
When I watch not your going, far down the long street, 
When your dear, loving voice, now so thrillingly sweet, 
Grows harsh in reproach or command; 
Ah, me I 

IIow strange it will be I 

How strange it will be when we willingly stay 

Divided the weary day through! 
Or keeping remotely apart as we may. 
Sit chilly and silent, with nothing to say. 
Or coolly converse on the news of the day, 
In a wearisome, old-married-folks sort of way I 
I shrink from the picture, — don't you ? 
Ah, me! 

How stranffc it will be I 



88 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Dear love, if our hearts do grow torpid and old, 

As so many others have done — 
If we let our love perish with hunger and cold. 
If we dim all life's diamonds, and tarnish its gold. 
If we choose to live wretched, and die unconsoled, 
'T will be strangest of all things that ever were told 
As happening under the sun! 
Ah, me I 

How strange it will be ! 

" Well, of all things for a boy's scrap-book ! " said 
his sister, " "Why did n't you select a chapter from 
the Rig-Veda, or some jjassage from a treatise on the 
differential calculus, or a speech out of the Congi'es- 
sional Record, or something else that you could under- 
stand ? I never ! " 

" Well, I don't care," said Bob, a little confused, " it 
jingles well, and it is n't melancholy. And people 
like lots of things that they don't understand." 

" Bob is certainly growing wise beyond his ears," 
said Brunette. " And now I '11 read you an old war 
reminiscence that I found the other day." 

ISHMAEL DAY. 

One summer morning, a daring band 

Of rebels rode into Maryland, 

Over the prosperous, peaceful farms, 

Sending terror and strange alarms, 

The clatter of hoofs and the clang of arms. 

Fresh from the South where the hungry pine, 
They ate like Pharaoh's starving kine; 



THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 89 

They swept the land like devouring surge, 
And left their path, to ils furthest verge, 
Bare as the track of the locust-scourge. 

"The rebels are coming!" far and near 
Rang the tidingj of dread and fear; 

Some paled and cowered, and sought to hide — 
Some stood and waited, in fearless pride, 
And women shuddered, and children cried. 

But othei's — vipers in human f oi'm 
Stinging the bosom that kept them warm. 

Welcomed with triumph the thievish band, 
Hurried to offer the fi-iendly hand. 
As the rebels rode into Maryland, — 

Made them merry with food and wine, 

Clad them in garments rich and fine 

For rags and hunger to make amends, 
Flattered them, praised them, with selfish ends — 
" Leave us scathless, for we are friends! " 

Could traitors trust in a traitor? Ko! 
Little they favored friend or foe. 

But gathered the cattle the farms across. 

Flinging back, with a scornful toss, 
" If ye are friends, ye can bear the lossi " 

Flushed with triumph, and wine, and prey, 
They neared the dwelling of Ishmael Day, 
A sturdy veteran, gray and old. 
With heart of a patriot, firm and bold. 
Strong and steadfast — unbribcd, unsold. 

And Ishmael Day, his brave head bare. 
His white locks tossed by the morning air, 



90 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Fearless of danger, .ind death, and scars, 
Went, oul to raise, by tlie farm-yard bars, 
The dear old Hag of the stripes and stars. 

Proudly, steadily up it flew. 

Gorgeous with crimson, and white, and blue; 
His withered hand, as he shook it freer. 
May have trembled, but not with fear. 
While, shouting, the rebels drew more near. 

" Halt! " They had seen the hated sign 
Floating wide from old IshmaeFs line. 

" Lower that rag ! " was their wrathful cry. 
" Never! " rang Ishmael Day's reply; 
"Fire, if it please youl I can but dial " 

One with a loud, dcliant laugh. 

Left his comrades and grasped the staff; 

"Down! " came the fearless patriot's cry; 

" Dare to lower that flag, and die! 
One must bleed for it — you or I! " 

Eut caring not for the stem command, 
He drew the halliards with daring hand. 

Ping! went the rifle-ball, — down he came 
Under the flag he had tried to shame. 
Old Ishmael Day took careful aim! 

Hark! an echo! and now again 
The tramp and tumult of armed men; 
And panic-stricken, the lawless band 
Left their leader upon the sand. 
And fled in fear out of Maryland. 

Seventy winters and three had shed 
Their snowy glories on Ishmael's head; 



THE TEIANGULAR SOCIETY. 91 

But though cheeks may wither, and locks grow 

gray, 
His fame sliall be fresh and young alway — 
Honor be to old Ishmael Dayl 

" Well, what became of him ? " asked Bob. 

" Probably he died, when his time came," said Bru- 
nette ; " when a man is seventy-three years old, he 
can't look forward to a very long or varied career." 

" Pie was one of the nine-days heroes of the civil 
war," said the mother — " the newspapers praised him 
for a week or two, and lion-hunters called to see him 
in his poor shelter, somewhere near Baltimore, and 
then he was forgotten, and left to starve, like most 
private heroes. And now I '11 read you a brief arti- 
cle, and then it will be bed-time." 

A CAGED LION. 

He stands behind his iron bars. 

Untamed, untamable and proud, 
Disgraced by bondage, seamed by scars. 

The centre of a taunting crowd. 

Hunger and blows have vanquished him, 
Weakened his limbs and dwarfed his size, 

Yet all his woes have failed to dim 
The yellow splendor of his eyes, — 

Wliich note no face in all the throng. 

But see across, beyond, afar. 
The jungle depths, remembered long, 

And desert palms of Africa. 



92 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

So human souls, enslaved by chance, 
Deformed by time's remorseless scars, 

And scourged by cruel circumstance, 
Behind Fate's hindering prison-bars, — 

Heedless alike of praise and jeers, 
Blind to the present's chilly truth. 

See, through the unfriendly crowd of yeai's, 
The torrid tropics of their youth! 

" How queer it is," said Brunette, meditatively, 
"that you never can make a captive lion look at you. 
He seems to be looking over your head, or through or 
beyond you — you never can catch his eye. I won- 
der if it would be so if you should meet a wild one 
on his native plain ? " 

" I rather think, in that case, the lion would do the 
catching," suggested Bob. " Anyway, I should n't 
care to try the experiment." 

" I do pity those tropical creatures, when they are 
brought captive over-sea for people to stare at," said 
the mother, — " no wonder they '11 not look at their 
tormentors — it is the only right which cannot be 
taken from them. And even if a lion or an elepliant 
escapes from his keepers, his case is utterly hopeless ; 
ho cannot possibly get back to his own lovely land 
again. lie is sure to be cither recaptured or killed." 

" I suppose it 's bedtime," ventured Bob, " but I 
have just one more bit of verso that I want to read. 
The paper I cut it from said the story was true." 

" Of course there 's no manner of doubt about it if 
the newspaper said so," said Brunette. " I remember 



THE TKlANGULAli SOCIETY. 08 

wlion I was a little girl, just boginiiiiig to read tlio 
news] III) )ors, I one day repeated some story wliieli I 
had spelkul out, with infinite labor, in the eoluintis of 
a weekly journal, and was beyond measure amazed 
when somebody said it was n't true. ' True ! ' said 
I, 'of coui'se it is true; I rea<l it in the newspaper!' 
How 1 was laughed to S(H)rn for niy confidence! I 
thought theu that nothing was ])ut in print that 
was n't true. But, Bob, let us have your story." 

"I think this is true," said Bob, "because it told 
the man's name, and all the circumstances, in the 
prose introduction to the verses." And he read as 
follows : 

THE LAST VOYAGE. 

The midnight skies of autumn were brilliant overhead, 

As up the gleaming Hudson the laden vessel sped; 

The while with eye unsleeping, and nerves as strong as 

steel, 
The bravd and faithful pilot kept vigil at the wheel. 

His home had been the river, — he loved its ceaseless 
roar; 

lie knew (;aeh mile of channel, each winding curve of 
shore; 

Had dared its rocks and shallows, and laughed at lands- 
men's fears 

In every wind and weather, for five-and-twenly years. 

No vapor hid the pole-star, no tempest crossed the night, 
No mist-wreath veiled the waters, no haze obscured the 

siglit, 
]}ut on the quiet midniglit the bell's alarming nofe 
Kaug out with sudden clangor, the warning " Slow the 

boat! " 



94 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Up sprang the second pilot, with wonder in his eyes; 
"What hoi wliere is the danger?" he asked in dazed 

surprise. 
*' The sky is clear above us, the water deep below; 
What hidden peril threatens, or wherefore signal so? " 

The boat slid through the water with smooth and even 

keel, 
With grasp unmoved and steady, the old man held the 

wheel, 
!N"or ever paused or faltered, but raised his eyes to say 
" A heavy fog has fallen — I cannot see the way! " 

"No! look! the night is cloudless, the way is straight 

and clear; 
Yonder 's the light at Ehinebeck, and Eondout lies off 

here." 
Still unconvinced, he whispered, his voice grown faint 

and hoarse, 
"The fog is thick and heavy, and we have lost our 

course! " 

Awed suddenly to silence, the other took his place; 

He marked the deathly pallor that touched the old man's 

face. 
The pilot's work was ended; it was his time to go 
Upon that mystic voyage whose port we may not know. 

Ilis j^ears of patient labor an'l watchful care were past; 
A true and faithful servant, and loyal to the last, 
lie felt across his vision death's icy dimness steal, 
IDs eye upon the beacon, his hand upon the wheel. 

Surely some waiting angel, who counts as victories won 
Long j-ears of earnest labor and duties nobly done, 
Some just and gentle angel, with forehead like the day, 
Helped his bewildered spirit to find the shining way! 



IX. 

TYPOGRAPHICAL ERRORS. 

"MoTiiEK," said nnuu'tto ono day, coining in, tired 
and froltod with her day's work, " 1 do Lt'lievc that 
ty2>ogra])hical errors are the most exasperating tilings 
in tliis world. It does seem to me that the average 
comj)ositor actually exhausts ingenuity in trying to 
make absurd every paragraph that passes througli his 
hands. The nu)st vexatious thing about it, is that if 
the wliole sense or wit oL" an item hangs on one word 
or one letter, that is the very word or letter which is 
Avrong in the |)roof." 

"Brunette!" said (he mother, "you are actually 
scolding. I am afraid yonr newspaper work is sj)oil- 
ing your temi)er." 

"And well it may," rejoined the girl, — "look at 
this ! I have been made to state to-day to several 
tliousau<ls of peoj)le, that according to the weather 
re]H)rt from New Vork, they have had there ' a fall of 
snow and brick and northerly winds ! '" 

"Did bricks really faHy " asked I>ob, dropi)ing the 
slate whereon he had been drawing cats with three- 
cornered faces. "The wind nuist lia\e been awful, to 
blow the very bri(;ks out of the walls ! " 

" I wrote ' brisk and northerly winds,' " explained 

95 



96 THE TRIANGULAE, SOCIETY. 

Brunette, — "and the other day, when I copied among 
the personal items a description of tlie appearance of 
a well-known Frencli politician's daughter, mentioning 
that her eyes wei-e fme, I was represented as stating 
to an astonished world that 'Mademoiselle Grevy has 
five eyes ! ' " 

" Never mind, Brunette," said Bob, soothingly, 
" nobody will believe it." 

" I 'm afraid that 's the most vexatious part of it, 
to Brunette," ventured the mother ; " if people could 
only be made to believe these remarkable announce- 
ments, the newspaper would be pronounced uncom- 
monly enterprising, — in fact, it would soon merit the 
compliment of being called ' a sprightly sheet.' " 

"Yon may laugh all you like," Raid Brunette, 
gloomily, taking a half-sheet of pemilled printing- 
paper, badly crumpled, out of her pocket, " but when 
I read you some of the grievances set down here, — 
things which have wrung my heart to strings within 
the last three months, you will see that it 's no laugh- 
ing matter to me. I or instance, Avhen, speaking of 
the servant-girl question, I said many employers com- 
plained because Norah and Bridget ' turned the meal- 
hours upside-down with their masses,' meaning, of 
■ course, that the servants changed the breakfast-hour to 
suit their church-going — what outrageous accusation 
do you suppose I was made to bring against those 
devoted young women? The paper gravely stated 
that they turned the meat-house upside-down ! "' 

" Of all things ! " exclaimed her mother, — " how 



TYPOGRAPHICAL EEEOES. 97 

on earth could any type-setter see any sense in 
that?" 

" lie did n't," said Brunette ; " he simply paid no 
attcutiou whatever to wliat he was doing, excei)ting 
in a purely mechanical way. The two comj^ound 
words do bear a slight resemblance to cacli otlicr, and 
he acted on his first imj^ression, without regard to the 
meaning of the sentence at all, liis wits being wool- 
gathering miles away. When I call the compositors 
to account for these blunders, they invariably say, ' I 
was thinking of sometliing else,' as though that were 
any excuse. When a tailor or a carpenter or a dress- 
maker fails to make a tiling according to pattern, 
when a clerk makes a blunder in his accounts, or a 
wife fails to have breakfast ready for her husband at 
the precise moment, — not one of these culprits ever 
thinks of accounting for the misbehavior by cheerfully 
remarking, ' I was thinking of something else.' It 
would only make liis or her condemnation greater. 
Yet it is tlie shield and buckler of tlie average com- 
positor, wlien caught in these provoking blunders, — 
tliis prompt admission tliat his mind is not on his 
work." 

" I don't see," said the mother, reflectively, " how 
a ]irinter can set type without looking at every letter, 
and getting the sense of every sentence — if there 's 
any in it," she added, guardedly. 

" Well, he can," replied Brunette, " after a fashion. 
I know a veteran printer ^vho has set type for forty 
years, who will now set two columns on any subject, 
5 



98 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

and when he has finished, dedare that he lias no idea 
what it Avas about. I once knew him to set a long 
article about the settlement and progress of Chicago, 
in which the city's name occurred again and again, 
and yet, when the proof-reader, irritated by some out- 
rageous blunder in the ])roof, called rather perempto- 
rily for the copy, that compositor declared that it 
was n't on Ms string, and when the demand was 
pressed, became quite angry, and insisted that he 
'had n't set or seen a word about Chicago for a week.' 
And he had picked up the letters forming the name 
of that enterprising town, and put ihcm in ]iropcr 
order, a dozen times in the last half-hour," 

"I have often heard it said tliat a printing-office is 
an excellent school for boys who have had small edu- 
cational advantages," said the mother, "but — " 

"I hope I am not too severe," interrupted Brunette, 
*' when I say that to me it seems as though the aver- 
age compositor is made out of just that sort of boy. 
Half the compositors I know, always misspell the 
words receive, believe, reprieve, perceive, and the like, 
invariably misplacing the vowels in the last syllable, 
even with correct copy before their eyes. Quite as 
many of them fail to see the difference between the 
plural and the possessive, allowing their work to sjieak 
confidently of 'two chair's,' or 'two horse's,' and again 
of ' Mr. Smiths house,' or ' Mr. Ross late accident.' 
And as for the trade being a school to them, it seems 
quite impossible to change their o})iniou on these deli- 
cate points by teaching them anything. I had a little 



TYPOGRAPHICAL EKRORS. 99 

reunion of compositors in my corner of tlie oflice the 
other day, on which occasion I undertook, in a man- 
ner which I intended to be clianniiigly in(hi('tive, to 
impress on their minds some small facts rcgardinj^ the 
])hiral nund)er and the possessive case. Of course I 
told tliem that an observance of these facts wouhl 
save tliem a great deal of trouble. But even my 
disinterestedness failed to convince them. Tiiey 
thanked me, and Avent back to their worlc, doing it in 
the same old way, with the exception of one, who, 
apparently utterly befogged by my instructions, care- 
fully refrains from using an inverted comma from that 
day to this. It is almost impossible to get the ])os- 
sessive of a word which ends with the letter s, jirop- 
erly spelled and jiunctuated in a newspaper; and I 
have never, since my experience l)cgan, suc(;eeded in 
getting the word ' cheery ' ])rinted otherwise than 
'cherry,' in the ])roof-columns." 

" Perhaps your writing is illegible sometimes," sug- 
gested the mother, trying to defend the absent. "I 'm 
sure when you wrote me last sununer that a dreadful 
accident had haj)pened near your uncle's house — that 
three of Mr. Blank's children had been, by the u])set- 
ting of their father's cow, drowned in the bag, I 
thouglit you had gone distracted, — utitil it was 
ex])lained that they Avere drowned in the bay by the 
ujjsetting of a canoe, — or was it a scow?" 

""Well," answered Brunette, a little abashed, "])er- 
haps I don't always Avrite like copper-plate engraving, 
but I 've often thought that the printer does bettei 



100 THE TKIANGULAK SOCIETY. 

when setting the most illegible manuscript, than when 
he is at work on good plain printed copy. For 
instance, in the rej^rint of an article on Turkey, the 
other day, I saw it stated that ' No people bathe as 
often as the Turks, but none are so indifferent to civil 
ideas.' The last two words were ' evil odors.' In a 
sentimental story not long ago, a young man was 
described as casting upon his sweetheart ' a look of 
administration,' instead of admiration ; and she, not 
to be behiudliand, it would seem, 'gazed upon him 
with diluted eyes.' As she had previously been 
described as ' a beautiful blur-eyed girl,' this was only 
consistent." 

" I remember reading in the Adviser, long before 
you went into the office," said the mother, " an item 
stating that some bad boys had been selling stolen 
type to ' a firm of old pink dishes ' on Fore street. 
The item seemed serious, and I always wondered 
what it meant." 

"It meant 'old junk dealers,'" said Brunette, "that 's 
easy to see. But when you read of a good man 
recently deceased, that ' lie always drew on his cheek- 
bone at the call of benevolence,' what are you going 
to understand by that ? " 

" I know," exclaimed Bob, who had been a per- 
plexed listener to the discussion, and now saw a 
chance to make himself useful. " Billy Brown told 
me the other day that he thought his father Avould be 
benevolent enough to give him half a dollar to go to 
the circus with; but when Billy asked him, he said no, 



TYPOGEAPHICAL EREORS. 101 

and Billy said, ' Did n't he have tlic check?' and 
perhaps — " 

" I wish you would n't bring liomc the slang you 
hear at school, Bob," said his sister, — "and besides, 
you jump at the wrong conclusion. It was the gen- 
tleman's cheque-book, and not his cheek-bone, which 
he drew upon when jieople wanted money. And here 
the other week, on the occasion of the trial trip of a 
new steamer between liero and Boston, I was mado 
guilty of remarking that 'the steamer's engines were 
stopped from the time she left Portland until she 
reached Boston — an unusual and severe test!' — 
whereas it meant that the engines were not stopped 
for the whole trip. That imj^ortant word 'not' makes 
a vast difference in a sentence, sometimes, and it 
seems to be the special delight of the compositor to 
leave it out. Of course a good many of the errors I 
catch, and mark in tlie proof-columns, so they are cor- 
rected, and never meet the gaze of a censorious world. 
But often and often, in the hurry of ' making up,' 
the correcting is scamped, overlooked or neglected 
altogether, and the errors which I have carefully 
marked, stare at me triumphantly in the last edition. 
Not long ago, in the report of a trial during which it 
was proved that one jiarty had been severely injured 
by a pistol fired by another, I read with horror, ' It is 
plain that' the discharge of the jury at the plaintiff 
had a tendency to shorten his life.' 'Jury' was the 
type-setter's translation of the written word 'gun.'" 



102 THE TKIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

" I 'm sure," said Bob, who bad been lost in tliougbt 
so deep that lie failed to catch the explanation, " I 'in 
sure I 've heard about discharging a jury. But I 
did n't know they ever discharged it at anybody, or 
that it ever killed anybody. It must be that they 
did n't know it was loaded." 



X. 

THE SECOND TRIANGULAR. 

" I FOUND sonic lines yesterday," said the mother, 
at tlie next meeting of tlic Triangular Society, "which 
express a feeling that I fancy comes to everybody 
Bomctimcs. I will road them first," 

A DEAR LONESOME DAY. 

I have been searching Ihrougli every room, 

Careless of echoes, and silence, and gloom; 

UiDstairs and down, from Ihc roof to the ground, 

I^o human being is there to be found 1 

And I exult in an iufinitc glee, — 

No living soul in the castle but mcl 

So, jubilatel I turn all the keys, — 

World, do without me to-day, if you plcascl 

I am alone! I can laugh or can cry, 
Nobody watches or questions me why, — 
Nobody asks what the matter may be, — 
Oil, how delightful ii is to be free! 
Talk of society's rarest delights. 
Sociable mornings and talkative nights, — 
Willingly, gladly, 1 fling them away, — 
Give me myself and a dear lonesome dayl 

I am alone I I can do as I will, 
llcst or be busy, be noisy or still, — 

103 



104 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Read, sing, work, stiv-ly, or s(ring at mj' case 
Verses (don't criticise, — belter than these. 
These are the bubbles atop of (he wine; 
Just a relief fortius gladness of mine,) 
Jubilant, jo3'ous, ecst^ ic, 1 say — 
I am deliciously lonesome to-day I 

Tired of the friction of soul against soul, — 
"VVho can endure it, and keep his own whole I 
Tired of all argument, counsel and blame, 
Tired of my j-oke-fellows, tired of my name, 
Tired of tame questions and tamer replies, 
Figures, and faces, and voices, and eyes, — 
Often and often I cordially pray. 
Give me myself and a dear lonesome day! 

After so long being worried and whirled 
In this bewildering cage of the world. 
Like a poor squin-el made captive, I feel, — 
Caught from the nut-woods and kept in a wheel. 
Oh ! the broad desert — the wide lonesome sea 
Seems a desii-ablc dwelling to me; 
Not self-sufficient, but wear}-, — I say 
Give me myself and a dear lonesome day! 

Selkirk, ungrateful, irascible elf. 

Growled, Avith a whole island all to himself, 

And in the midst of his numberless farms. 

Questioned of solitude, " Where are thy charms?" 

Stupid old felloAV he was, I declare, — 

I could have answered, if I had been there; 

And if I err not, with little ado, 

I could have taught him to value them too! 



THE SECOND TRIANGULAR. 105 

Oh, 't is so rare and delightful to be 
Careless, unguarded, unwatchful, and free, 
Not observed, looked at, and marked all the while. 
So if one will, one may frown, blush, or smile, 
With the SAvcet surety that no one will spy. 
Guess at one's motives, and judge one thereby. 
Blessings on Fate, let her scowl when she may, — 
I am deliciously lonesome to-day 1 

" Mother," said Brunette, " whenever you feel like 
that again, just let Bob and me know, and we will 
take the first train on the Ogdensburgh. As for mo, 
I have n't written much verse lately ; I have been too 
busy, and business is prose. So I will read you my 
excuse in verse, and then give you my prose remarks 
on old gardens and old-fashioned flowers." 

WINTER TIME. 

I cannot touch the cheerful strain 

My summer used to know, 
My soul is barren as the plain 

Beneath December's snow; 
Its gorgeous hues are dim and pale, 

Its fountain-voices dumb ; 
Dead blossoms drift before the gale, — 

My winter time has come. 

The soaring eagle cannot stay 

Forever on the wing. 
The dew-drops cannot shine all day, 

Nor thrushes always sing. 
5* 



106 THE TKIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

The flowers, in field and garden-plot, 

Faint as the long daj's roll; 
All things seek rest — and wherefore not 

A feeble human soul ? 

You do not chide when Nature's hand, 

Bidding her toilers cease, 
Spreads wide across the dreary land 

White robes of rest and peace ; 
Then do not blame as waste and crime 

My dead and fruitless hours, 
For souls must have their winter time 

As well as streams and flowers. 

You do not sock anemones 

In January's dawn, 
Nor ask for June's sweet harmonies 

When all the birds are gone; 
Then do not plead for me to sing 

A summer melody, 
When, though the world may call it spring, 

'T is winter time with me. 

"Your apology is suflicient," laughed the mother. 
*' I would accept an apology like that, any time, in 
preference to some of the poems you have given us." 

" I thinic," put in Bob, sagely, " that Brunette writes 
better when she can't write, than she does when she 
can." 

"That is encouraging," replied Brunette. "And 
now for the prose." 



THE SECOND TRTANGULAK. 107 

OLD-FASHIONED FLOWERS. 

A city paper says that thovc is a lilac-tree in Deering, 
which is a hundred years old. This, though unusual, is 
not specially remarkable, since the lilac is a perennial, 
and asks no care or favor, only desiring to be let alone. 
The lilac used to be much more fashionable than now, at 
a time when very few flowering shrubs were known in 
New England dooryards. Almost every country-house 
of the better class then had its clump of lilacs. In the 
rage for new things, many of these old friends have been 
crowded out; but still in many country and village gar- 
dens in Maine, there flourishes the same lilac bush 
which gray-headed men and women remember as bloom- 
ing in their babyhood, and bearing the lovely purple 
plumes then for some unexplained reason, known as 
''laylocks." Beautiful flowers indeed they are, with 
their delicate varying tints, their graceful movement in 
the wind, and their sweet, homelike odor. But hardy 
and common though the lilac-tree may be, it has an 
unusual pride and self-respect. It will not allow its blos- 
soms to be cheapened. They wilt immediatel)' on being 
broken from the tree; whoever would enjoy them must 
go where they grow. The shy arbutus, the delicate 
ferns, the floral beauties of the gai'den and the green- 
house, may be purchased in the market, for so much 
money; even the queenly daughter of the lakes, the wild 
white water-lily, may be bought for a price in the streets 
and in the railway-trains, — but the lovely languid lilac 
droops in the hand that would make merchandise of its 
beauty, and refuses utterly to be bought or sold. 

In an old garden in Androscoggin county, there is still 
a clump of asparagus which was set there more than a 
hundred j'cars ago, in the old days when all good house- 



108 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

koopovs Ihought it necessary lo have branches of "spar- 
row-grass." Avith its graceful feathery sprays full of red 
berries, to occupy the idle "fore-room" fire-place in 
summer, and to decorate the best looking-glass the year 
round. Not a person in that town, then, probably, had 
ever raised asparagus as an edible; it was simply as an 
ornament that it was cultivated — if placing it in a use- 
less corner of the garden, and allowing it to take care of 
itself, could be called cultivation. 

In the same old garden there was, and is probably to 
this da}^, a patch of ribbon-grass, then called "lady- 
grass," in which little children — Avho now feel like 
antediluvians, — used to hunt by the hour to find two 
"spears" alike, but never succeeded. The patch was 
ohl then, and had begun to revert to the original gi-een 
around the edges, but it was a joj'', a wonder and a puz- 
zle to children still, and may be j^et; albeit nowadays so 
much of the ingenuity, labor and money of the world 
arc spent in ilevising amusements and pleasant occupa- 
tions for children, that they are not, as a class, apt to lind 
pleasure and entertainment in so simple and inexpensive 
things as delighted and satisfied the little ones of a 
former generation. 

In the same garden, too, was a clump of cumfrey, with 
its rough woolen leaves flavored like cucumbers, and its 
sprays of delicate wax-like white bells, which were so 
vexatiously sure to drop oil' before chubby luunls could 
break the stems. This clump had been there " ever 
since grandmother was a little girl," according to the 
children — and unless the garden has sulfered modern 
" improvement," or a railway has been run through it, 
it probably grows there still. 

In the garden of an old house in Franklin county, 



THE SECOND TRIANGULAR. 109 

Ihorc was, years aj:!:o, aii;l prol)al)ly is to-da/, a donsc 
clump of ralher coarsc-growiuii; horbat^'C, k.iown among 
the children as ''lovage" — a name never heard in mod- 
ern gardens. The leafage was something like that of 
parsnips, but smoother, and the fresh leaves were often 
eaten by the children of the resident family, although 
the flavor was rather rank, an I the mother used to 
express frequent disapproval l)ecause Avheu they were 
put to bed at night, it Avas discovered from their too-fra- 
grant breath that they had been " eating lovage," which 
she specially detested. Years passed, and one of these 
children, always specially interested in "green things 
growing," tried in vain to find in any garden the old 
familiar "lovage," the memory of which was pleasant 
for its old associations. Not only was there no "lov- 
age," but nobody had ever heard of it. ]>ut persever- 
ance and comparison finally succeeded in establishing 
the fact that the poor, despised, stalky, tough, and strong- 
flavored " lovage" was simply and only the crisp, white 
succulent celery of the city markets, strayed into the 
country and run wild — uncultivated, uutrcnched, un- 
blanched and unvalued, having lost even its name in the 
transition; like some dainty city girl, who from being the 
admired and appreciated centre of a brilliant social cir- 
cle, is transplanted into some out-of-the-way country 
corner, under another name, and presently finds herself 
rooted to a spot where nobody recognizes her real value 
and charm, and where her " maiden name " is unknown 
even to her nearest neighbors. 

There is a fashion in flowers as truly as there is in 
cotfins. Everj-body who ever had a country grand- 
mother, remembers the grass pinks, hollyhocks, mar- 
joram, damask roses, four o'clocks, fennel, love-lies- 



110 THE TKI ANGULAR SOCIETY. 

bleeding, gaiize-flowcrs, mallows, sweet-williams, London 
j)riile, huly's-delights, ami a dozen other things which 
used to grow in her garden: the enormous marigolds, as 
large as omuges; the clump of ''double tansy" in the 
fence-corner; the coriander, dill, and caraway, and the 
wholesome-smelling bush of gray wonnwoo.l; the dear 
little "cinnamon" roses, which came so earl}- and 
bloomed so bountifully; and the sweet old-fashioned sap- 
OHaria, Avliich the children called " bouucing l>ct." with 
its faint, far-away, delicate odor» anl its loose petals 
always bursting their calyx with sheer too-nutehness of 
flower; and the low, creeping, moss-like camomile, with 
its delicious odor of health and soundness — the one 
plaut which was supposed to grow all the better for being 
walked over — to really eujoy being stepped on; the 
pretty plat of thrift, the queer blue devil-in-the-bush, 
and the fragrant bhie-green bush of soiithernwood, whose 
rare blossoming was popularly supposed to herald '' a 
death in the family." AVhat garden has all these now? 

Many of these things become fashionable again at 
intervals; hollyhocks, for instance, which were banished 
from flower-beds as coarse and viflgm-, when dahlii^ came 
in, are now appreciated again and sold by tlorists. Lady's- 
delights, or Johimy-jump-ups return again, enlarged and 
improved, as pansies, — and so on. But London pride 
has disappeared altogether; mallows are seldom seen, and 
gauze-flowers are rarer now than orchids. Occasionally 
one sees a bush of southernwood, whose good bitter 
smell makes a graybeard almost homesick. Does he not 
remember the dear old grandmother who in the stmuuer 
Sundays, alwa3's had a sprig of it, and a single spicy pink 
or two, for a "meeting" nosegay? They were always 
nosegays in those days — there were no bouquets. It is 



THE SECOND TRI-\NGUIiAE. Ill 

dowbtful if a bunch of those sweet oUl-fashioncd flowers 
would auswov to the uaiuo of a bouquet, if ouo should 
call it so till doomsdoY. 

But many of these old friends have disappeared utterly. 
Whei-e, for instance, is the old-fashioned blue-bell bxish, 
whieh used to grow a tall, strong plant by the garden 
pickets — a plant that had odd, drooping, robin's-egg blue 
tlowei-s, monopetalous, shading down to a yellow-white in 
the centre, and with a calyx like that of the ground- 
cherry? This plant loved the shady side of the garden, 
and even tlourished under the crab-apple tree; and its 
buds had the habit, always delightful to children, of 
being tilled with water. "NVhen a bud was nearly ready 
to bloom, a slight pressure by a small thumb and linger 
would cause it to explode and shoot forth a quantity of 
pellucid water, like hoarded dewdrops. This trifling 
did not seem to affect the coming flower in the least, 
which bloomed the next morning as though notlung 
had happened. * 

What has become of the blue-bells ? And where is 
the cumfroy ? And the prince's feather ? And who has 
any old-fashioned mallows ? Or star-of-Bethlehem ? And 
how far must one search to find a camomile-bed ? And 
where do these dear old things go when they go out of 
fashion ? 

'"I should like to go into one of the old gardens 
•where all those things grow," said Bob ; " and it 
reminds me of a piece of verse which I lu^ve hei-e, and 
will read to you. It speaks of several of the old-fash- 
ioned plants which you have just mentioned." 



112 THE TEIANGITLAE SOCIETY. 

GRANDMOTHER'S GARDEN. 

Gramlmother's gardou was brave to sec. 

Gorgeous with old-time plants and blooms, 
All too common anil cheap to be 

Grown in modern parterres and rooms; 
Old traditional herbs and llowers, 

Some for pleasure and some for need, 
Gifted, haply, with wondrous powers, — 

Root, or petal, or bark, or seed. 

All old fashions of leaf and root 

Grew there, cherished for show or use; 
CmTant-bushes with clustered fruit 

Red as garnets, and fidl of juice; 
Tiger-lilies with beaded stalks, 

Balm, and basil, and bitter rue, 
Gay nasturtiums and four o'clocks — 

Grandmother's garden was fair to view. 

Pinks — how rich in their stately prime 1 

Filled the air with a rare delight; 
Lavender blended with sage and thyme ; 

Lilacs, purple and milky white, 
Met and mingled and bloomed as one 

Over the path, they grew so tall; 
And tulip-torches, in wind and sun. 

Flamed and flared by the southern wall. 

Periwinkles with trailing vines. 
Lordly lilies with creamy tint, 

Bachelor's buttons and columbines, 
Proud sweet-williams and odorous mint; 

Heavy peonies, burning red. 
Wonders of lush, redundant bloom, 



THE SECOND TEIANGULAK. US 

Longeil i-or a wi^lor space to spread, 

Aiul llushocl the ixnUlor for lack of room. 

Brilliant asters their prim heads tossed; 

Dark blue monkshood, and hollyhocks 
Smiling fearless at autumn's frost, 

AVaved and nodded along the walks; 
Love-lies-bleeding forever drooped; 

Disks of sun-flowers, bright and broad, 
Watched like sentries; and fennel stooped 

Over immortal Aaron's-rod. 

Cumfrey, dropping its waxen flowers, 

Purple gooseberries, over-ripe — 
Lady-grass, that I searched for hours, 

Vainly trying to match a stripe,— 
Pansies, bordering all the bedsj 

Ladies' delights for the children's sake, 
Poppies, nodding their sleepy heads, 

And yellow marigolds wide awake. 

Morning-glories, whose trumpets rung 

Resonant with the rifling bees, 
Daffodils, born when spring was young; 

Vain narcissus, and gay sweet-peas 
Clinging close, but with bright wings spread 

Avlde^ like butterflies just alight; 
Gauze-flowers fragile, to sunrise wed. 

And bashful primrose that bloomed at night. 

Eich syringas, all honey-sweet, 
Trim carnations of tenderest pink. 

Bluebells, spite of the noonday heat 
Holding dew for the birds to drink: 



114 Til 10 TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Marjoram, hyssop and caraway, 

I)ain:isk-rosi>s :iiul iiiignonoUc; 
Alil soiiicliiiu's ;it lliis dislaiit (lay 

1 c;in Taney I siufll llicni y(>t. 

I have a ganli-n of jirondcr chums, 

l^iU of novcllics bri,<;li( and I'arc, 
^Modern Mowers willi stalely names 

Mannl their wondiM'Tul beanty there; 
^'el in Ihreadini:; its Itriliianl maze, 

Oft mv heail, with a li()mesiel< llirill 
AVhispers, (h'eaminy oL' early (hiys, 

" Cjranihnother"s garden was lairer still 1 '* 

"That is compri'liensivc,'" said the mother. "• l>ol) 
is always fond of aiiytliing in tlie natnre oi an inven- 
tory. And thinkini;- of ohlfashioned things and })er- 
sons, reniinds mo of some verso which 1 liave licrc, 
that seems to have heen written ahont one of the old 
citi/ens of tliis town, whom 1 used often to see, years 
•Aiio. lie mnst. Iiave l)e(>n nearly tMghty years old, bnt 
his cheeks were always as rosy as a boy's." And she 
rt'ad the following lini's: 

OLD ROSES. 

There is one I often meet 

As 1 pass along the street, — 
One npon wlu^se fni rowed face 
1'hree-score years ha\e left their trace, 

Yet his strong and npright form 

lias not bowed to wind or storm. 
Nor his hair, though toncheil with rime, 
Fullou beneath the scythe of Time. 



THE SECOND TRIANGULAR. 115 

And I said, the other day, 
Seeing him across the way — 

Speaking hall." lo one wlio stood 

Near nie, in a musing mood — 
*' Lo, how lightly, it appears 
On his forehead fall (lif years I 

Youth's unfrozen Itlood still speaks 

]']Io(pieutly in his cheeks, — 

"And their well-kept ruddiness, 
Somewhat withered, 1 confess, — 

Looks as hist year's roses look, 

Pressed and dried within a, hook; 
Still, with all their freshness lied, 
Keeping all their oldim red: — 

Or, agaiu, it seems to m(>, 

As 1 look more eai'e fully, 

" Like the wrinkUul crimson rind 
Of the apples which we find. 

As wc peer with curious eyes 

Into last year's granaries. 
Or some dusty stoi-ehouse, where 
Hidden from the light and air, 

They have lain the winter through 

liOsiug everythiug hut- hue; — 

"So, methinks, the withered check 
Of whose rosiness we speak, 
Keeps, unhlanchcd, tlie ruddy glow 
Of the hloom of long ago." 
"Kay," spoke one who, waiting, heard 
Smilingly my every word — 

One whose arch, half-serious eyes 
Answer ere her voice replies; — 



116 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

" Nay, — bethink you," — thus she said,- 
" This is not the lingering red 
Of his early morning years 
Which upon his face appears; — 

" 'T is the ruddy sunset gleam 
Lighting up life's darkening stream, 

'T is the slight return which age 

Makes for youth's lost heritage; — 
'T is the light reflected o'er 
From a brighter, rosier shore; 

Or, to suit your playful mood 

"With a gay similitude, — 

" When October's yellow hair 
Brightening all the hazy air, 
Half disputes her proj^hecy 
Of the winter-time to be. 
You have marked the various hues 
Which the forest-monarchs choose ? 
You have seen them all arraj- ed 
In their robes of light and shade ? 

" When the sharp and frosty airs 
Chill the sweet woods, unawares, 
And to pallid whiteness bleach 
All the tresses of the beech, 
How the elm grows all alight, 
Sallow with cojisumptive blight — 
And the willow, blanched and sere. 
Drops its leaves in trembling fear; — 

" And the poplar's faded leaf 
Quivers with its whispered grief, — 



THE SECOND TRIANGULAR. 117 

While the birch-lrec's airy hmbs 

Wave to autumn's funcral-hymus — 
And the oak, with lofty pride 
Yielding, though unterrified, 

Tones his glossy greenness down 

To the dignity of brown ; — 

" But the maple dons a blush 
Rosier than the richest flush 

Which in summer glows and thrills 

All along the sunrise hills ; — 
Breaking into sudden bloom 
As from out his soml^re tomb 

Bursts the newborn butterfly 

Gorgeous with his brilliant dye. 

" Wherefore, trifler, we will say 
Of the sire across the way — 

He is like the maple tree 

Growing old so rosily — 
Borrowing nothing from his youth — 
Age is wealthier far, in truth; 

Blooming, when the summer 's jiast, 

Brightly, brightlier, to the last ! " 

"I don't think I cai'e very mucli for that," said 
Bob, frankly. " The trutli is, I am getting sleepy, 
and so I will just read this one short article, which is 
a good one to finish the session." 

BED-TIME. 

The children's bed-time hour struck long ago. 
But all too short to them the evening seems ; 
They linger by the fire, although they know 



118 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Their shoos should all bo stamling in a row, 
And each bright head bo busy with its ih-oanis. 

Thoy droad the bod's soft chill, tho pillow's cold, 

And make tho pica so ol'tou made bol'oro; 
With small excuse and pretexts manifold, 
Thoy stop to hoar some well-known story told, 

Or i^lay, perhaps, some worn-out game onee more. 

Yet in the morning, Mhon the mother's call 
l\ings up tho stairway, not a voiee replies; 

Last evening's interests are forgotten all; 

Each hides his face, or turns it to the wall, 
Nor once uplifts tho lids of sleepy eyes. 

In vain to tempt them forth to sport and light, 
Tho wakening sunbeams through tho curtains peep; 

Tho world has lost tho charm it helil last night; 

Stones, books, games, are all forgotten quite, 
Nor work nor play is half so sweet as sloop. 

With shoulders bowed, and aches in every limb, 
My neighbor stoops beneath his eighty years; 

Slow is his stop, and every sense is dim; 

How can tho workl keep any charm for him. 
Or life bo anything but pains and fears? 

Yet still ho grasps it with unyielding lioUl, 

And when his hour comes, chooses not to know; 
Still waits to hear tho worn-out stories told. 
Still counts his gains, still notes tho price of gold, 
And plays tho game that tired him long ago. 



THE SKCONl> TKIANCU'I.AK. 110 

But whon ho th\ds, bovonJ tho hap aiul harm 

AVhioh ovor wait iipi>ii this nun-tal hroaih, 
That what ho s^hnink from, with a vauuo alarm, 
Was a kiiul hoaJor, bringing pcaoo and bahn — 
llo will, n\ayhap, grow so in lovo with iloath. 

That whon tho morning-iingors pinions swoop, 
With wakoning touoh, aoross his qiiiot broast. 
To wuso him from hi-^ slumbor soft and doop, — 
IIo will but niunnur, in his happy sloop, 

"Eveu hoavou iisoU" is \^ol so sweet as rest 1 " 



XI. 

rni-: man who was so ii. \rrv 
riiA r — 



" SoMi'iiow, nil \\\o sttM'ii's sihmh to l>o ;il>o\it im- 
li.'ippy |>(>o|)K\"' s:iid l»ol>, uu>(li(:Uivi>ly, aftiT linmotto 
li:hl bvHMi ti'Uinu' him :\ \ov\x history. "Why is it that, 
so iu;inv ol llu> pooplo in sttM'ii's ;iro unh:i|>j>y ? 
.Viul (hoso w h(> nro not niisiM'MMo, L:,onor;illy dio, or ^vt. 
Killotl — why is itV" 

"(^nv' roMson why," sniil r»runvMto, who h;hl ;i h:ippv 
faonllv t^t' o\plan:Uion, " is (hat yon aro n»>\or willinLj 
to h-t a stvM-y st(>|> in iho rii<,'hl plaoo. \ on always 
want iho stm'y ' llnishod.' as yon t'all it. ^^'h^'n 1 ti>ll 
ViMi a stoi'y, anvl try to loa\o llu' horo of it in tolirity, 
with i'\ orythinj;' to his mind, ytni .always ask, ' \\"oll, 
Avhat l>ooan\o ol* l\in» V ' " 

"It was jnst so w hon yon wovo a littlo trot." said 
lluMnothor — "'\Vliat l>oiN>inod of him, mamn\;i V was 
always tho «inoslion, if I linishod ;v story withont hnry- 
in>>' tho horo. .\11 of !Moth»M" tlov>so's porsonai^vs and 
anin\als hail to havo salisf;u'tv>ry onds littod to thorn — 
:> work whioh roqnirod uol only sonu> inj^-onnity. l>nt 
an oxoollont n\omory ; for il". ;»fti'r h.aving onoo st.ati'd 
lliat .lonny ^^ ron diod oi rhoiiin.atisni of tlu> ho;irt, 
i>r thai Poolor I'ostor, who wont [o (.ilonoostor, foil u 
120 



TUK MAN WHO WAS SO IIAITY 1 UA'P- 



\-2\ 



victim to water on tli«' l>r:iin, I Mt'lcrMMnl, tlu'ou;'li 
stress ol' ]iri>o«'(Mi|>:it ion or ror;;t"t t'liliiess, reiu.nlvi'tl 
tli:il she peiislied o( nn'Msli\s, :ni(l 1)0 ol" een'bro-spinnl 
nuMiiiiLiitis, I w.ms iiuinediMtely hrouii'ht u|> witli ;i 
round tui'ii. * ^ on told it dili'ereiit niiolluT lime!" w ;is 
tiie neeii.sntion. Tnlk ot" tlu' stories oi ;i thonsnud 
mid oiii' ni'^lits! TliMt niuid>er of ni^Iits would n't. 
iu;d\e (|uite lliirl \ lour moul lis — not three yeiirs ; Mud 
iiiy term ol" (ellim;- stories to J>ol) was h)nL;er than 
(hat;' 

" 1 1' Vv)ii would u'l always insist, on ' What l)(>eame 
of him?' I eould tt'II vou ever so many ha|i|>y sto- 
ries," said r>rnnett(>; "hut so h>n!4' as nolhinij <>\er 
<K>es finally become oi' anybody exeeptinuj death — 
(and r«M- that mailer, death is more beeomiiiijj to n\any 
persons than anyl.hinL:; in their lives) I don't. sih> any 
way to ilnisji your stories satisl"at'tt>rily, exeejitiliLT to 
way — • And so he, slu>, or it, as tlu' ease m.ay be, dii'd 
and wt'ul to lieaxtMi.' 1 'm sure that 's a li:i|)|iv 
t'noujj,h endinu;." 

"Well," said l»ob, who had listened p.it ient ly t o all 
(his torrent ol" censure, " 1 should re.illv lilvc to hear 
a storv about sonu>body who w :is ha|)|)y — r**;/ h.ippv, 
.so th.it ht> did n't want. soniethiuLi; dil'b'rcnt," 

"I thinU that Irame ol" mind would be as I'al.al to a 
human bein^; as prussic acid," said llruiu'tti*. 

"1 heard of a man onc(> who was perl'eetly happv," 
said tlu> mother, bii;j,liteninL:,, --" :ind he lived o\i'r 
on llu' Cape, too — not so lar awav from this \vv\ sit- 




122 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

ting. lie was liapjiy — so happy that lie actually — " 
She stojtpoil short, and her smile fadeil. 

"Tell the story, tell it!" cried Bob, "the story of 
the man who Avas perfectly ha])py ! Tell it, and I 
won't ask what became of him," he ui-ged, moving his 
chair nearer to his mother's, and preparing to give her 
his whole attention. 

"I fancy you Ml not need to ask," murmured Bru- 
nette, who had heard the story, or a part of it, long 
before. " But come, motlier, let 's hear the story of 
tlie man who was jterfectly happy. And please make 
it as interesting as you can, — for happy people are 
not generally interesting." 

"It is n't Tuuch of a story," said the mother, " and 
I can't athrm that it is authentic, but I will tell it as 
nearly as j^ossible as it was told me. Well, years ago, 
there lived a poor boy — " 

" Now if you could only fix on a date when ihero 
did 7i't live a poor boy," said Brunette, " the story 
would be much more entertaining. The world is full 
of times when there live poor boys." 

"Nevertheless, I must tell the story as I heard it. 
There was a jwor boy, and he lived over on the Cape. 
His parents were not only jioor, which is bad enough, 
but his father was shiftless, which is Avoi-se, and 
drunken, which is worst. Not n\uch headway can a 
poor, discouraged, hard-worked woman make against 
a shiftless and drunken husband ; and so the poor son 
of this poor woman had a hard time. Poor clothes, 



THE MAN WHO WAS SO lIArPY THAT — 123 

pool* food, poor slicltor, and a poor pros}iect ahead of 
him. 1 am afraid ho wont hungry sometimes when ho 
was httk>, and his motlier could not get odd jobs 
enougli to feed him comfortably. As ho grew older, 
he began also to do odd jobs for the neiglibors, most 
of whom were much better off than he. Among 
these neighbors, and living not far away, was the fam- 
ily of a well-to-do shii>mastcr. This M'as long ago, 
in the days when to bo a shiiMuaster, sailing out of 
Portland, meant to bo a wealthy man, to own the 
whole or a part of a vessel, and to go to far, rie]\ coun- 
tries, and bring home wonderful and curious things. 
This special ship-n\aster had, among his valuables, and 
curiosities, and good things of all sorts, a very charm- 
ing and lovely little daughter. "Whether she really 
was the most beautiful little creature that the sun 
ever shone on, I know not, but the poor boy thought 
so, and so we will take it for granted. L)Ut she was 
rich, and he was i>oor ; she was clad in costly 
garments, while lie Avas coarsely and insufficiently 
dressed; she fared delicately every day, while he ate 
what he could get, and was thankful for enough of 
anything. And the poor boy worshipped her in 
silence and afar oft', never daring to approach or 
speak to her, although lie often saw her while he Wi^s 
engaged in odd jobs about her father's liouse or gar- 
den. And there grew up in the lieart of this poor 
boy a strange, wild, um-easonable, ambitious longing 
to raise himself, to better and imjtrove and cultivate 
and beautify himself, until he might be worthy to 



124 THE TEIANGULAB SOCIETY. 

walk on the same level with the rich and beautiful 
little girl who seemed to him a veritable angel on 
earth. He made the most of his meagre opportuni- 
ties for schooling ; he j^icked up sci-aps of knowledge 
wherever he had the chance ; he learned the speech 
and manners of educated people ; and he squared his 
whole conduct by the supposed taste of the charm- 
ing little girl who, perhaps, hardly knew of his 
existence." 

"It seems to me that this hero of yours was a 
rather j^recociously sentimental youtla," said Brunette, 
who was in a severe mood. 

" Sentimentality is an affectation of sentiment," 
said the mother. '' No, he was not sentimental — he 
never mentioned his youthful dream through all his 
boyhood, even to his own mother. And as for pre- 
cocity — T am not sure but it would improve most 
boys, if they would make up their minds to do noth- 
ing that a well-bred, pure-minded, well-behaved girl 
would disapprove or dislike. At all events, this plan 
had a very good effect upon my poor boy. He never 
stole or cheated, because he knew she would not like 
it ; he never learned to smoke or chew tobacco, 
because he was sure it would bo disgusting to her ; 
he never tortured insects or animals, or robbed birds'- 
nests; he never learned to drink and gamble, and 
mingle with bad company, as he grew older, because 
he knew it Avould i)ut him farther away from her. 
I presume, too, although I do not know, that he 
refr^'.ined from spitting on public steps and staira 



THE MAN WHO WAS SO HAPPY THAT — 125 

Avlicre ladies go up and down, — that he avoided 
standing at the corners of streets, and peeping under 
CA'cry parasol that passed by ; that he eschewed dis- 
cussing the personal appearance and probable senti- 
ments of every young girl thut he saw ; and that he 
was as civil to a woman who was old enough to be 
his mother or grandmother, as to damsels of his own 
age. Of these things I feel sure, although nobody 
ever told me so. I only judge so from his other con- 
duct, and the manner in which ho prospei'ed." 

" And so he really did prosper ? " asked Bob. 

" Look out. Bob," said his sister, " you '11 presently 
be asking, ' Well, what became of him ? ' It is odd, 
though, that he prospered ; so good a boy would natu- 
rally be a shining mark for misfortunes of all sorts." 

" I should think a boy who behaved as well as that 
would have been awfully lonesome," said Bob, gravely. 
"Did n't he ever have any fun ? " 

"Bob seems to have the truly masculine idea of 
fun," laughed his sister. " Bob, do you really suppose 
that bad, wicked, cruel, rude, and disobedient boys are 
happier than — than yoii are, for instance ? " 

"Well, I don't know," replied Bob, doubtfully. "I 
know two or three bad boys, who are always in dis- 
grace at school ; and a great deal of the time when 
they are out of it, they seem to be in^ hot water of 
some sort. They don't look happy, that 's a fact; 
they don't act very happy ; but they are always tell- 
ing what lots of fun they have. They say they 're 
happy." 



126 THE TKlANGULAr. SOCIETY, 

Bruuotto laughoil. "You roiniiul mo of tlio innplo- 
sugai- man," said she. '*Oneo in tho hoginning of a 
Vermont ' sugar-season,"' the owner of n majile-oreluird 
made his annual aj>iK>araneo in a Conneetieut river 
viHage, with small oakes of sugar for sale. The sugar 
was of very poor quality, having heen badly hnrned 
m the making, as was gently intiniated by his eustom- 
ers. 'Oh, no,' lie replied, ''taint scorehed a mite.' 
' But look at it, smell it, taste it,' persisted the would- 
be purehasci-s, ' it 's blaek, and smoky, and bitter — 
it 's certainly scorched.' 'I know,' replied he, looking 
at it closely, 'it looks scorched, and ' — with a little 
sniff — ' it smelh scorched, and,' — tasting a bit — 'it 
certain does taste scorched, — but/? aint scorchet? a 
mite.' Your bad boys are like this, with a dit'ferenee. 
They don't look hajipy, nor act happy, but they are 
happy, nevertheless, because they say so. But looks 
and deeds often speak louder than words, my blessed 
Bob, and it is n't always certain that people, young or 
old, have ' lots of fun ' because they say they have." 

" Who 's telling the story ? " suddenly asked Bob, 
who was apt to grow restive iinder his sister's disser- 
tations on questions of absti-act morality. "Mother, 
where did you leave your poor boy ? " 

" Trying to live u]i to an ideal, under ditVieulties," 
said the mother. "Of course he was eontinutilly study- 
ing how to advance and im]>rove himself, and better 
his condition, and it naturally enough oeeurred to him 
that if he, too, could in course of time become a shij>- 
master, he should Inn e a nuich better chiuice of mak- 



THE MAN WHO WAS SO HAPPY THAT — 127 

ing llio aoquaintniu'o of tho mnvvellous little ijivl, tlinii 
ho could gain in any otiior way. 80, having oarnocl 
nil ho oouUl earn, ami loarnoil all ho couKl loarn, at 
homo, ho shi]iiHHl in some humblo oa]>aoity-on board a 
morohantman, and wont to soa. Thoro is no record 
or tradition of liis voyagos, or of how seasick and 
homosiok and heartsick ho may havo boon. Xo doubt 
ho wa^^ wrotohoil enough. Poor and frieiulloss little 
boys, or boys of any size, havo a hard enough time at 
sea, learning to bo sailoi-s. It 's rather pathetic, 1 
think — tlio idea of that ]>oor little follow, perhaps 
foui'tecn or tiftoeu years old, away out on tho windy 
ocean, pulling icy ropes, and tugging at frozen sails, 
and keeping his forlorn heni-t warm with the detor- 
luinalion to make a man of himself, a true, wise, 
lionest, ('loan and good man, — for the sake of making 
tho acquaintance of the loveliest little girl in the 
world.'' 

'' But how did he know ho should over see her 
again ? "' queried Bob, who always talked round 
everything, and looked at every side of it — " how 
did ho know that she would n't havo tho measles 
and die, or move away, or bo killed by lightning or 
something?" 

" lie did n't," replied the mother. " lie had to 
take his chances, like tho rest of us, when we make 
]ilans, and labor toward tho fullilment of our hopes 
and ambitions. And he probably did not jn-opose to 
n\anago anything which was quite out of his power. 
lie was intent ou doing what was possible for him to 



128 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

do, toward the realization of liis early dream. If lie 
was the boy I fancy him to liave been, he did not bor- 
row trouble, or worry about things whicli he could 
not control,«or cross his bridges until lie came to them. 
In short, he seems to have thought that if he sur- 
mounted the principal obstacles, conquered the great- 
est difficulties, and did the hardest part of the work, 
Providence was amply capable of accomplishing the 
remainder. Voyage after voyage he went, growing 
wiser and stronger and more manly continually, em- 
ploying all his corners of time in adding to his stock 
of knowledge, and carefully avoiding all places, com- 
panions, habits and associations which could lessen 
his self-respect and derogate from the high standard 
of manhood which lie had set for himself. Of course 
he had his drawbacks and discouragements ; of course 
sometimes liis progress seemed slow, his hope wavered, 
and his trials seemed greater than he could bear ; but 
he never really faltered from his first puq^ose, or 
ceased from his upward struggle toward the loveliest 
little girl in the world." 

"But all this time, did he never speak with lier?" 
asked impatient Brunette. " When he returned from 
his voyages, did n't he go to see her, and tell lier his 
purpose, and assure himself of her sympathy? " 

" Doul)tlcss he saw her whenever he cr.me home, — 
as he had ahvays seen her, by chance, as she walked 
the same streets, and perhaps went to the same 
church. But it does not appear that he ever had 
even a speaking acquaintance with her, until he had 
become mate of a vessel." 



THE MAN WHO WAS SO HAPPY THAT — 129 

" And then I suppose he made love to, and married 
the loveliest little gii-1 in the world," said Brunette. 

"Don't hurry him so," said the mother. " No, he 
did n't." 

"1 thought this was to be a story about somebody 
who was perfectly happy," said Bob, " and it does n't 
seem to me that your poor boy was haj^py worth a 
cent." - 

" I did n't say he was born happy — I was only tell- 
ing you how he came to be perfectly happy — so 
happy that it positively — " and the mother checked 
herself again. " When the poor boy first began to 
worship and dream about the loveliest little girl in 
the world, it is n't })rol)able that he had any more idea 
of winning her for a sweetheart, than the old fire-wor- 
shippers had of making love to the sun. But at some 
period between that time and the time when he 
became mate, it is evident that he must have enter- 
tained such a hope. Whether it occurred to hira 
suddenly, and showed him as by the sudden flash of 
a meteor, the meaning of his long unquestioning fealty 
to her, or whether it grew slowly and naturally out of 
his childish admiration, and loyalty, and singleness of 
heart, who knows ? Nobody ever knew excepting 
himself and the loveliest little girl in the world. 

"After he had achieved tlie position of mate, he Avas 
at home in his native place for a little while, and 
during the time, he saw her frequently at the neigh- 
borhood gatherings, and made some progress in her 
acquaintance, having made himself, as he believed, 



130 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

worthy to touch her Imnd atul s]H>nk to her. Indeed, 
it seems ])rob;il>le tliat he toUl l>er something of his 
oliihlisli reverence and admiration for her, and of the 
h)nu', toilsome, lonesome years throuuh which he had 
remembered her. But if he did, nothinu' came of it 
at present, for when he asked her father if he might 
try to win her, that ]iompous and purse-]n-oud old per- 
sonage promptly told him that he was not rich enough 
to be eligible as a son-in-law ; that he must be nnister, 
and at least part owner of a ship, before he could be 
allowed even to ask tlie favor of the loveliest little 
girl in the world. ^Vnd so he carried his heavy heart 
to sea again." 

" I should have thought that hope deferred would 
liave made his heart sick," said I>ruiiette ; "so sick 
that he would have thrown up the whole jilan." 

" Ah, you don't appreciate my poor boy," said the 
motluM-; ''he had a constant and loyal soul, which a 
few years more or less could not change or discourage. 
I wish there were more of them. But by this time 
some of the neighbors had guessed at his secret — 
and some of those people who are so fond of telling 
ill news that they will even write a letter to do it, 
reported to him from time to time, stories of the num- 
ber of suitors who hovered about the fine house of 
the wealthy ship-master, and of how much the lovely 
daughter was sought and admired, and various other 
matters which did not conduce to his }K\\ce of mind — 
for by this time he understood his whole heart, and 
felt sure that no money, nor position, nor power, nor 



THE MAN WHO WAS SO HA]'PY THAT — 131 

possibility, winil»l bo wortli nnything to him, witliout 
tlio pivsoiu'o of tbo lo\ oliost littlo girl in the world. 
.\ml as she was in no way bound to him — iudood, it 
sooms doubt fid whether slio knew that lu> was in love 
with her, or had eonsultod her father on the subject — 
of eourse my poor boy, now 'a flne, tall, handsome 
man, with a brou/.ed and bearded face, a pair of fear- 
less and candid eyes, aiul a voice like a north-wester, 
may have been a good deal troubled about the dear 
inaccessible sweetheart (^that 's a line old word, and 
1 like it better than any modern word which has 
taken its place), away up on the coast of Maine, — 
especially as her father had cruelly told him that he 
liad 'other views' for her. In this respect, probably 
the last years of his probation were the hardest. But, 
to shorten a long story, he by and by found himself 
in the position he coveted. lie was master of a ves- 
sel, of which he owned a large part. lie made fortu- 
nate voyages, and accunudated numey. And when 
there could be no farther objection to him as a son-in- 
law on account of his poverty, he once more asked 
her father's permission to approach the loveliest littlo 
girl in the world. 

" This time it was not refused, and she, although she 
did not know how many years she had been the hope 
and guiding-star of his life, inclined favorably to the 
wooing of the handsome, intelligent and honorable 
young shii>-captain, and in due time consented to bo 
his wife." 

''Of coui'se," said Brunette, with a smothered 



132 THE TEIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

yawn, " we all expected that. It 's the natural des- 
tiny of jioor boys." 

*' Do for mercy's sake let mother finish her story," 
exclaimed Bob, " and show me how this man was hap- 
pier than any other man," 

" I judii:e he was hap})ier than most men," said the 
mother, ])lacidly, "because he was evidently so ha])i)y 
that it — " and for the third time she checked lierself, 
and left the sentence unfinished. " Well, the wed- 
ding Avas a great occasion. There Avas of course a 
famous banquet, with all manner of delicacies and 
wines — and there A\ere flowers, and music, and 
satins, and laces, and jewels, and all the beautiful and 
costly things for which the Cape is so celebrated — 
but tu)thing was so beautiful as the loveliest little girl 
in the Avorld, and nobody was so haj»py as the hand- 
some bridegroom, as, like young Lochinvar, he trod a 
measure with his bride." 

" What is treading a measure ? " asked Bob. " I 'vo 
heard Brunette sing that song lots of times, but I 
never knew what it meant." 

" Grandmother used to tell of people who could run 
around all day in a half-])int dipper," said Brunette. 
" 1 should call that treading a measure — a very small 
one." 

Bob glanced at her Avith sjK'echless indignation. 
"And then '?" said he, turning to his mother. 

" And then, late at night, all the guests departed, 
and the brilliant scene grew dim — and the bride- 
groom sat down by his bi'ide alone, and beginning the 



THE MAN WHO WAS SO IIAPPY THAT — 133 

rocitnl at his cliildliood — tlio limo vvlu'ii lio wns n. 
poor little linlf-fed, halt'-clad luvliin, and was hired to 
weed oniou-bc'ds, and shovel snow tor her father — ho 
told her the whole lonuj story of his life — his admira- 
tion of her as a little child, his dreams, his hopes, his 
anihitions, his struu;gles and teni|)ta(i<ins and hard- 
sliips and trials, throngii all the h)ng years of his labor 
to make himself worthy of her, the loveliest little girl 
in the world. ' And at last,' said he, ])utting his arms 
about Iier, and holding her close to iiis most faithful, 
clean, patient and steadfast heart — 'at last, it is all 
over, and I am happy, i)erfectly hajipy ! ' And oven 
as the words left his lips, he was dead." 

There was silence for a few minutes. Then Bob 
drew a long, quivering breath. "What made him 
die?" asked he. " Diil he die because he loved her 
so muchV" 

" l*8haw ! " said skeptical Brunette, stoutly, brush- 
ing a winker out of her eye with her handkerchief, 
" no man ever died of love. Shakspeare himself says 
that worms have died, and men have eaten them, but 
not for love. I — " 

" I don't see why tiiey should eat 'em, else," said 
IJob, in a low tone. 

" -/ believe the man died of heart-disease," j)ersisted 
Ib'unette. 

" It 's one of the most diflicult things in the world 
to be certain what we believe," said the mother, " but 
I believe that I believe, — I want to believe that he 
died of i)erfect happiness, pure and simple." 



134 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

" It 's a coinplnint that does n't make any notice- 
able difference in the Porth^nd death-rate now-a-days, 
any way," snid Brnnette. " I am pretty sure that 
case was sporadic, and the only one on record." 

"And this is tlie story of the man who was ])er- 
t'ectlv liap]\v," said Bob, mournfully, putting back his 
chair, and jn'cparing to go upstairs, "• and he died, after 
all ! " 

" Yes," said the mother, " ho was happy — so 
happy," and this time slie linished the sentence — 
" so hapi^y that it actually killed him ! " 

" I sujipose," said Brunette, with the lamp in her 
hand, "the fact that perfect happiness is fatal to 
human beings, explains why most of us get it so 
dreadfully diluted ! " 



XII. 
THE THIRD TRIANGULAR. 

"To-xioHT," sail! Brunette one evening, as the Tri- 
angular Soeiety met about the table — " to-night I 'm 
going to read some nonsense, that I wrote simply for 
amusemont, — to see it' eertain difficulties could bo 
compassed. Here, for instance, is a sonnet. After 
I have read it, I want you both to tell me if you seo 
anything unusual in it — any peculiarity or oddity. 
If you do not, I shall think I have succeeded in my 
purpose." 

Bob sat up very straight to listen, and Brunetto 
read as follows : 

EYES. 

In ancient times did valiant minstrel-knight 
Ills mistress' visual beauties advertise, 
Singing their winning radiance lover-wise, 
Bepraisiug lavishly their brilliant might. 
Hoping his skill might win his life's delight; 
Finding similitudes in morning skies, 
Likewise in moonlit midnight's duskiest guise. 
I claim slight kin with singers tierce in fight — 
I question this — if either warbling wight 
Amid high Chivalry's bright votaries 
Did. in his I'ich, inspiring strain, devise 
This hidden dillicuUy, which to-night 
1 in this idly-tinkling line comprise — 
This simple trifle, bristling thick with Is. 

135 



136 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY 

'* I don't know that I notice anytliing uncommon in 
it," said the candid motlier. " It is n't so good as some 
of your work ; it seems to me to belong with the 
' middling verses ' which ' gods and men despise.' " 

" Thank you," said Brunette, " now, Bob ? " 

" I don't like it much," he answered, " but it does 
seem to have the letter i in it a good many times." 

" More than a hundred," said his sister, " there 's 
an i in every word." 

" ^'hen I should think you 'd better send it to the 
Argus," suggested Bob, who doted on the " Age of 
Fable." 

" It is lost labor to carry owls to Athens," said his 
sister. " And now I '11 read one more little bit, and 
leave you to guess its secret." 

AFTERWARD. 

After all great disturbance falls a calm — 
Tornadoes pass, and peaceful rainliows make 
Heaven fair again, and sea and inland lake 

Cease raging, and acknowledge beauty's charm, 

As Nature laughs away all late alarm. 
Dormant volcanoes, after ages, wake 
And scare great nations; earthquakes roar and 
shake. 

And straightway cease again all jar and harm; 

And after fate and circumstance have made 
Disaster, disappointment and despair 
A heavier load than human heart can bear, 

Malice and hate at last shall faint and fade. 

Falsehood's sharp stab shall heal, and faith betrayed 
Cease paining, after Death has vanquished change and 
care. 



THE THIRD TRIANGULAR. 137 

"That's more sensible than tlic other," said Bob, 
promptly, " but I don't see anything special about 
it." 

*' I don't notice anything unusual in the sound of 
it," said the mother, " but perhiips if I should look at 
it — " 

But Brunette objected to an examination of the 
manuscript. " I cannot submit my papers to the Soci- 
ety," said she, loftily ; " if the members cannot judge 
of them by hearing them read in my expressive aiul 
appreciative style, I must do without their criticisms. 
But if the peculiarity of the lines should occur to 
either of you, I hoi)e you '11 mention it. And now 
it 's Bob's turn." 

"Well, I've made some verses myself, this time," 
said Bob, " and I must say it 's uncommon hard 
work." 

" You ! " exclaimed his sister, " made verses ? 
What did you make them of?" 

" Oh, other people's," said Bob. " And now you 
just listen, and see if I liave n't done it nicely." And 
Bob read with great gravity, this amazing medley : 

POETICAL PATCHWORK. 

I only know she came and went Lowell. 

Like troutlcts in a pool; Uood. 

She was a phantom of delight, Wordsicortli. 

And I was like a fool I Eastman. 

" One kiss, dear mai<l," I said and sighed, Coleridge. 

" Out of those lips unshorn!" LoiKjfcUow. 

She shook her ringlets round her head, Stoddard. 

And laughed in merry scorn. Tennyson. 



im 



TIIK TIMANGULAIi .SOCIETY. 



L'iiii4 onl, wild bells, to llic wild tsky, Tennyson. 

Yon licnr llit'in, oh luy heart ? Alice Carey. 

'■'■ "r is twelve :il night ))y the castle clock, Coleridge. 

I5eh)ved, we must, piirt! " Alice Carey. 

" Como b!U!k,como l)a,ck," slu; cried in grief, Campbell. 

" My eyes are dim with tears — Ihtyanl Taylor. 

How shall I li\-e thi-ough all the days, Mrs. Osgood. 

All through a hundred years! " 2'. S. Perry. 

Hood. 

Ifoyl. 

Mrs. Edwards. 

Cornwall. 

Patmore. 

Bayard Taylor. 

Brailsford. 

Head. 

Browning. 

Alex. Smith. 

Coleridge. 

Wordsworth. 

Coleridge. 

Ilervey. 

Word.'iworth. 

Tennyson. 



'T was in the i)i'inie of suniniei' (imo 
She hli'St nie with lier hand, 

Wc strayed together, deeply blest, 
Into the Di-eaniing l^and. 

Tlie laugliing l)ridal roses Mow 
To (hH>ss her dark-hrown hair, 

No maiden may with her compare, 
Most heantiful, most rarel 

] elaspcMl it on \wv sweet cold hand, 

Tlu^ i)recious golden link, 
I calmed ]\er fears and she was calm,- 

'' Drink, i)relly crealure, drinki " 

And so I won my (Jenevieve, 

And walked in Paradise, 
The faiivst thing that, ever grew 

Atween me and the skies! 



"Bob, you never did tbnt alone?" exclaimed 
Brunette. 

" \V(dl, mother ludped me about sonn> of tlu^ au- 
thors' names," replied IJob. 

Till! motJier lauglied. "My t'atlier used to tell a 



THE THIRD TRIANGULAR. 139 

story," s.'iid slic, ";il>()tit a ciipit.'ilist wlio once started 
a shingle-iiiill in an ni)j)er connty in this State. lie 
got cverytliinjjj in Avorking order, put a man in charge 
of the niac^hincry, and liinisclf rcturncMl to the liaunts 
of civilization. Moiitlis passcil, and lie heai-cl no 
re])oi't from liis manufactory. At last, out of all 
patience, he flew to the s(tone of opei-ations, and found 
his man calmly 'silting around' in the village gro- 
C(iry. 'Why (»n ('arUi hav(Mi't you shipped some 
shingles V' iiKjuired he, wrathfully ; 'you ought to 
have turned out thousands by this time ! ' 

" ' Well,' replied the foreman, uncrossing his knees, 
aiul crossing them the other way, 'I 've concluded 
that it 's cheaper to l)uy shingles than 't is to make 
'cm ! ' And I think it would be cluiaper to ]»uy 
poetry than to make it in the toilsome, slow, trouble- 
some way that IJob has employed. 1 shall re(H)mmend 
purchasing it from you, lu^reafter. ]5ut he has shown 
marvellous patience and much ingenuily. However, 
it takes more than those to make a poet." 

"Yes," said Brunette, "else this stanza which T am 
going to read would be the most perfect i)oetry. I 
will tell you beforehand, that it is a brief address to 
the moon — but the word ' moon ' is not in it, neither 
does it contain one of the letters of that word." 

TO THE MOON. 
Dear pallid vestal, Wnxi upbears 

A cresset tipped with silver fire, 
At thy behest, earth's fretful cares 

Abashed by utter peace, retire. 



140 THE TRIANCULAr^ SOCIETY. 

Where'er Iho wrctclied fall asleep, 
Wearied at last by lil'e's despair, 

'T is sweet that th}^ pure face Avill keep 
Its ever-failhrul vigil there! 

" Now I 'in perfectly well nwnre," said Brunette, 
" that those Hues have no merit excepting their diffi- 
culty ; but this is greater than you would think, for 
the condition tal)ooes all the ordinary nanies of the 
moon. You can't say ' orb,' or ' crescent,' or si)eak of 
'Dian' or the 'huntress,' or 'Selene,' or mention 
' bow,' or ' boat,' or ' shallop,' — or even ' the queen of 
night; " 

" And you can't call it a luminary, eithei-," said 
Bob, as though that would be a in-ccious privilege. 

"That is a })rivation," said his sister, " not to be 
allowed to call the moon a ' luminary,' in verse. By 
the same token, you can't call her a good friend to the 
]\ntland (Jaslight Company, nor a powerful rival of 
_ kerosene oil. And, mother, I know by your left eye- 
brow that you 're going to tell me that the lines would 
have been better if a'U the rest of the ali)habet, as 
well as the three forbidden letters, had been omitted. 
You need n't ; it would n't be original, because a self- 
conceited Englishman said it a great while ago, on a 
similar occasion — and besides, I told you in the first 
place, that I did n't plume myself on the stanza. But 
you just try one yourself ! " 

" Indeed, no," replied the mother. " If I Avere 
going to write verse, I should want to use not only 
the whole twenty-six letters to express my ideas, but 



THE TillKD TRIANGULAR. 141 

soveval others wliicli liavc never been invented, ^'our 
rhytlnnical calisthenics are inj^enious and amusing, 
and very few persons find a recreation at once so 
innocent and ine\])ensive. And as this session seems 
to abound cliielly in oddities, T am s^'oinn' to read t(» 
you from my scrap-book, an example of persistent 
rhyme which I found the other day, and which I 
liardly think you can excel. And then we sli.dl find 
it time to adjourn." 

DOCTOR McGEE. 

In a cosy hotel in great London, G. ]>., 

One winter quite hilcly, Fat(^ chanei-d to decree 

I should stay I'or awhile — and I could but agree. 

It was not in " the season," and consequently 

There were few fellow-lodgers to speak to, or sec. 

In the coi'fijc-room there (where, cpiile lucky I'or me, 

The guest is l)y no means restricted from tea, 

Or chocolate, or milk, but may have them all three, 

])y ringing foi- JiUcy, and biding a wee — ) 

I noticed one day, on the piim mantel-tree. 

Between two i)ink vases of lofty degree, — 

The servant declared they were " real Japanec " — 

A letter, directed to '' Dr. Mcdee, 

Jsum))i'r sixly-ou(', Norfolk street, W. C. " 

In a prtUiy bauil-vvritiug, neat, graceful and free; 

Ou the corner was written, as line as could be, 

" To await the arrival of Dr. McCJec." 

And I absently wondered, while drinking my tea. 

What manner of man the new-comer would be. 

Who might drop in, to-morrow, and breakfast with me. 

liut the letter I'cmaiued there — two days, and then three, 



142 THE TllIANCJULATl SOCIETY. 

A week, two weeks v;uiislie(l, like foam on Ihc sea, 
And morn al'ler iiioiu, us 1 poured oul my tea, 
1 glanced at the note on the prim mantel-tree, 
And pondered and wondered — and waited to see 
Why it never was called for by Dr. McGce. 

Who was he, 
This Dr. Mc(}ec, 

Who was not where he was expected to he ? 
Was lu! Doctor of Laws, or a simjilc! M. D. ? 
Or a traveiliii'^ quack, witli exlorliouatc^ i'ee ? 
Was he native, or born in somi; foreign countree ? 
Ji^rencih, Scotch, German, Irish, or wild ('hcrokec ? 
Or an ill-growing sprig of some noble old (ive. 
With a new name wherever he happened to be ? 
Was he wealthy and gouty, as often wesee, 
Or poor and rheumatic ? or youthful, and free 
From all the sort; ailments which time may decree ? 
Was he bluff and big-whiskered, as doctors may l)e, 
Oi' dapper, mild-mannered, and brisk as a flea? 
Was be cui'led like Hyperion, or bald as a pea? 
AVouid be ever appeal' and decide i( ? or be 
Forever and ever a^ seaUul myslei-y ? 

Wliere could be be. 
Poor Dr. McGee? 

Had he perished by shipwrecrk in yonder great sea? 

Was b(>. ill ill some h()S])ilal V dying, may be. 

With no fond fiiriid near to (•ousole him, or see 

That liis pillow was smooth, and bis bi-ealhing-space free, 

And bis mediciiu'S given him regularly ? 

}l lidiihled my thoughts, and (piite worci upon me, 

Th(! [)ossible faie of poor Dr. Mc(iee, 

As day after day came, but never came he. 



TIIIO Tllli:i> TKlAN(iULAU. 



143 



]!iil iniuhl il iiol Ixs 
'I'liiil, l)y I''()rliiii<'",s (I(!criio, 

It was joy, .'ind iiol wuc, llial kcpl Dr. Mc(«cu? 

Thus oricii I mused, ill ;i, happier key — 

I'crhiips his ^^ood slur had ariscui, and luj 

Of Home. wcaHliy iiahoh was sole Ictfiihu', 

And was couiiliiiL^ llii^ woilli of an Indian rupee, 

Oi- busily reekoiiin;; 1. s. and d.; 

Or, as ('hrislinas was eomintf, :iiid lii)lid:iy j^deo 

Was I'iic all llii-()ii;4li I'liinlaiid, IVoni ceiili'e lo seii, 

Perhaps in soiih; [)leasaiil home di'avviiiij;-rooni ho 

"VVas plaiHiin;^ Ihc; f^'rowlh of a, lali Christnias-lree, 

"While, rosy-clusekcnl hoys and .^irls, one, I wo and lliree, 

A\'ere piilliii'^ his whiskers and elimltiiiL;' his knee, 

'J'ill, enleriiiL,' inio Iheir innoeeiil spree, 

IIo quU,e I'oi'i^ol how (his poor leller iiiiyhl, ho 

Ko;,dc;cted in Norfolk slivel, W. ('. 

But Christmas deparle<l, w il h '■'■ lioxini^" and leo, 

And (he letter liiat lay on (he |)iiiii maiilel-li'iM', 

And (ha( once; was as vvdiite as I he lamh on (he lea — 

(ir(!w yellow vvilli wailiiiLj — as ofleii, ah, me, 

Jhd'alls (hose, who \vai( (ill hope's rosy (in(s liec!. 

And I lof( i( (hen- slill, when I (ook my last tea. 

Handed Lucy (he ('((in ;she expecled (u see. 

And paid my la,sl reckoiiiii'^, and ^a\'e up my key. 

And wen! (o (he sladon at (piar(er pas( (liree. 

And (houi;h I may wander liy desert and s<!a, 

No niaiter what marvels may happen to mt^, 

J never shall know, wliei"(!S()e'(!i- I may h(!, 

Who, when, why, or where, about Dr. McUco. 



xnr. 

TARSON SMITH'S BIB. 

"And now, Dol)," s;ii(l liis iiiollicr, (nu> Scplrinltci" 
inoniiiit;', ns tln'v were linisliin<4" lin':ikl'iist, " wlinl diil 
you :iii(l r>niiu'tl(' srf at llu' fail' yi'stfi'ilay ? \'ou 
were sotii-cd ami ci'oss last ui^lit- lliat I did iiol ask 
3'oii. 'riii'i-c iiiiisl liavc hi'i'ii a. L;'<»od many iiilcri'sliiiL;' 
tiling's tluTc, i's|u'('iall y in llic ccnlcnnial loan cxliiM- 
tiou dcpartnii-nt/'' 

"I 7^(^--■ lircd, lliat 's a I'acI," a;;i'(H'd ImiI), i^iiorimj; 
llic olluT ])art of tlui c'.harg'o ; " dr('a<ll'iilly lircd, 
lii'inn' dran'i.',rd aUoiit all day by IJruiicI Ic. All .slic 
cared for was just to wrilo licr n'|M>rl, and wlicncx cr 
I saw anylliin;;- I wanl('(l (o look at lonnvr, she said it 
was of no consiNiucm'c ; ami tlic tliinu's nA^' looked at 
most were just ruUMsh, and she would n't ieaxc nui 
alone a minute, heeause she was afraid I would get 
mixed with the erowtl, of ste|i])e<i on, she said, or ear- 
I'ied olT by C^hai'ley Ross; and I was just: tirecl out 
tryinn' to keep n|> with her, and out of other |ieo|)le\s 
way. r>ut I went to sh'i'|) as soon as I touelu'd 
the pillow, and this morning 1 feel like u god 
rejuvenated." 

"A ir/ijif/'''' queried l>runette, withdrawing the e\ip 
M'hieh she was just about t,o semi across the table fur 
moi'e coiTeo, "a- ir/nif, did }'ou Hay V " 
144 



TAURON SiMirifs mil. 115 

" I IicMid yoK. ^wj it, file ollu'r <l:iy, :uiyln)\v," miil- 
((•rc(| IJ()I», "wlicii you took l,li;il, liMlc ii;i|> in IIk^ 
tivciiiii!^ !irr<'r you M Itccn down 1o \\w isliinds ; y<»u 
HJiiil you tVh, lil<(' ;i o-od rt'juvciiMlcd. Al'tcrwar"!, I 
)isl<('(| inollici' wlmt, ' rcjuvcnnlcfl ' inc.'inl, mikI hIic Hiiid 
i(. nu'Mul, ni:id(' younger, ;nid hIic Ml\v:iyH ffll, i-cju\('- 
iiatcil wlicn kIk' w:is n'stcd, ;ui<l I don't Kce — " 

"AVIiy, l>oI)," l:uiL!,li('d Uninctio, " I rcmcndicf now, 
I s;i,id 1 I'clt'lilu^ :i. i.',i;in(. fcrrcsli('(I,' tli;i1, \\ ;is nil — 
notliint^ i.hotit rcjuvcnutcil, or :i i;'od, oi- :uiylliiiiu^ like 
it, you niisrcpn'HcnIulionMl hoy!" 

"Well, I don't r.Mrc," ]>ou<('il Uol), HonuMvliMi cowccl 
by tlu' ominous :idj('ctiv<', " vvlictlicr it \\:ih L;od or 
u;i:ml, it w ;is sonictliing about noiiit.hixli/ wlio ii,ot up 
and I'clt bcttiT, anybow, juHt !IH / have, this nioniin^ 
And belong I Icll inolhcr about lli(> fair, I want lo 
know why they <':ill<'d |tart oi' it !i ' lon(> exhibition'? 
Was it b(!c,aus(^ ^''i<'.y i"'v<m" iia<l those <)l(bl'asliion<'d, 
worn-out, l'a(lc(|, nioiddy, cracki'd and K|toilcd old 
thiuLijs on (^\l)ibitjon bd'oii' ? " 

" It is because^ tJicsc Kanic persons never intend to 
exhibit, tlM'Ui on another centennial oeeasion," ex- 
])lained nrunettxi, Hinilinjjj. 

" W^ell, they were Ji't, worth lookini^ at, anyhow," 
(said irreverent, Hob, "old eraeked china, dishes cov- 
er<'(l with wee|)inL;-willows full of cat,er|)illa,rs and old 
money that you could n't, buy a t,op with and old 
pewter ]»latters and old Indian relicts and j)i>wder- 
lioiais and su<far-t()n<^H and canteens and spoons and 
work-baskets and a weavinii,-iruuliine and Lady I'cp- 
7 



110 



THE TIMANdlTLAli SOCll'/PV, 



]>('iTirs (li.slii>s will) :i n>(l roostrr on 'om :iii(l tlio 
rr;i(Ilc> that — '" 

"Stop, !sl()|), 1>(>1)," oas|K'(l liiM niotlu'i-, "you arc 
sinollicriii;;- me willi iiifoniialion. DoiTl [:\\k so like 
a inill-clapitcr, and don't mix thini>H up so. One tliinij; 
at a liini'. Now wliat about the cradle?" 

" Uut we did n't see oiu' thiiii;' at a tinu','" persisted 
l5ol), "we Haw \'ui all (o^i'dier, and I could n't I'l'ad 
the libels, and all 1 could (iud out about ibe thiu<;s 
was by listeniuL!,- to people while llu>y wore sti'ppinuj 
on my toes, an<l biimpim;- my head with theii- elbows. 
Till' old cradle, a gentleman said, was the one tliat old 
Parson Smith used to sleep in — and when 1 asked 
him politely who Parson Smith was, he said tin- Tar- 
Hon was an old fuddy-duddy who died before I was 
born — s(>veral weeks before, he said ; and that Ix'foro 
lu' died he used tt> preach lu're and ki'e|t a dair\', and 
there WH're some of his clothes and his bib, now, if I 
did n't belii've it. I bit I kiu-w In.- was just fooliuL;' 
nuv" 

" 'riu> li^enth'maii must have had a i^ift at impartiiiijj 
information," laughed Urunette; "did he have ;i 
badi^v on his cap, sayint;', '(.Questions answered here"? 
That 's the kind of ollieer 1 should like to see insti- 
tuted at all public u,atlierinL;'s, especially State luul 
county fairs, lint what makes you think he was try- 
inn" ^*' '****' .V"" '• " 

Hob gave an inarticulate groan of contempt and 
disgust. " 1 )o p.irsons w<'ar bibs?" exploded he. 
" J )o parsons sleep in a cradle just big enough for a 



I'AKSON SMrni s luis. 



117 



Icihy? I*:u'S(>iis in olil limes iiiiist li:iv<! been :i, t^ood 
(Ii'mI sninllcM" lliiiii lln'y iirc now." 

" IJiit, JJdb," itit('r|>()sc'(l liis iiiol-Iicr, " I \\:v\i'. up- 
Bl:iirs tlie first |>;iir <>i" sIiocs V'"" <'\ «'r wore. IT yon 
hIumiM live I,() he ( Jovcnior of lM;iiii(^ niid die ;i \ci'y 
old iii;iii, iiiid u iiiiMdi'('<l yc'irs or so nl'lci", (liosc sliocH 
sliould \h' cxliibitcd ;is a curiosity, would it^ prove lli;il, 
you wore tliciii wlicu you wcn^ L;'(>vc'riior V l';irson 
SniitJi w:is old wIk'ii Ih' di<'d, Iml. lu'vcrl-liclcss, he whs 
once ;i, l);d»y — :il ii'iisl., So it, iH said." 

" ImiI, liow is it, l,li:it they don't, li.-ivc some of liis 
rulI-;.;rown ciotiics, and Iiis ra/.or, and his \i\<^ Itools, 
and—" 

" All, nic," s.iid the niotlicr, softly, "that,, I fancy, is 
because nobody whom In- knew in his manhocxl eyer 
(iai'c'd so niiU'li about, him as his mother did. S/ic pre- 
Kcrved even Ids old bibs, while the friends of his later 
yeai'S probably sold his old clolJies in e\chanL!,'e for 
VJises, and prayinjj;' Samuels, and busts of Lord llyrou, 
or, possibly, ^•av(^ them away t»» Icamps.'" 

"'I'ranijiH an<l |)last(M'-casl,s and heads of Lord i>y- 
ron in I'oillaud in I'arsou SmitJTs 1 inu' ! " exclaimed 
Ibainett-i'. " \V hy, I'arsou Smith was gathered t.o his 
grandfathers before! ITDT) ended, when llyrou was hh 
old as r>ob, here, — and as for tramps — " 

" Well, anyway," put in Hob, wdio had no interest, 
in (du'onolo^-y, " tiu! n-entlemmi said that, parsons must, 
baxc been a, L;'ood <|eal scarcer in old times than they 
Jiro now, <*y else jieople would n't, have k(^pt Mr, 
SniitlTs bib all these years. And he told the lady 



148 THE TIM ANGULAR SOCIETY. 

who was witli him that ho did n't believe tliere was a 
parson in Portland, to-day, wlio could lay his hand on 
one of the bibs he wore when he was a baby. And 
tlie l.'iily l.-ui^Iu'd, and said if he was n't earefid, some- 
body would hear him, — as tlu)ugh I was n't some- 
body ! Uut they would n't ha\e made game of me so 
if Brunette had been by — .s'Ac was away off, walking 
round a i)ewter dii)])er that somebody said came from 
Scotland two hundred years ago. She was just all 
wrap})ed u]) in that dij)per, and 1 've no doubt she 
wrote — " 

" Some verses about it," said Brunette ; " and hero 
they are." 

A PEWTER TANKARD. 

"William (iooUl, of Windham, (ixliihitinl in tho OonttMinial 
Pcipailnnnit of tho Maine Statd Fair, in 1S7(!, a powtor boor-mug, 
or tankard, " known to liavo boon brought from Sootland two 
liuudrod yoars ago." 

Two hundred years! oh, grim and gliosUy goblet, 
Why thus torment the thirsty souls of moderns, 
Moderns who live in times when pewter laidianls 
Linger supertluous ? 

Torn from the land that llows with ale and oat-eake, 
How in lliiue age art thou betrayed and slraiuled 
Thus high and dry \ipon the thirsty shores of 
JNIaiue prohibition! 

AVho would (leal out Sebago in a taid^ard? 
Or even milkman's milk, pieced out with pump-juice? 
Pshaw! who would load a cannon with baked apples? 
Perish the notion! 



PARSON smith's iub. 149 

Wlial arc, Ihc fi-cldi; (ii)pl('S of tlio present, 
JIop, pop, root, s|triuH^, and such-like weak devices, 
]5y lli()S(! wliieh, take tlie centuries together, 
Tliou liast suri'oundeil! 

Marvellous niui^I liovv many casks and bari'cls, 
Yea, more than that, liow many Imndicd h()i;sheads, 
I'ipes, tuns and what no( , has(, lliou ludd and carried,^ 
]*al(;, hrown, and home-brewed? 

Surely tlu>,y err, who say that drhiks convivial 
Shorten men's lives, and make (hem weak and shalcy; 
What devotee who pins his i'aith on water, 
Ueache.s thy record ? 

How many hands have grasped (liy quaint old handUd 
IIow many li[)s have pressed tliy lime-woi'n margin I 
How many eyes, with foam-drops on tlunr lashes, 
Looked down Ihy dislancel 

Tliou hast outliveil lliy nalund use; and i)urposc; 
Ale is a myth, and I)ccr an old tradition; 
Thou art a phantom, and thine occu[)ation 
Cione, like Othello's. 

What is our life ? Why do we boast and bluster 
Even if we count a hundred paltry summers? 
What are they worth ? a trilling pewter tankard 
Laugiis at our utmost. 

Granite and diamonds shame our short duration, 
Fine gold outlasts us, and wo never wonder, 
J)Ut to be distanced thus by paltry pewter 
Humbles the proudest. 



160 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Parowcll, old Innkanll on tlio next centennial, 
T>oul)tloss, sonic other bard will sing lliy praises, 
CJroct tlujc ■with eyes and lingers reverential, 
Even as I do, — 

Touch thy quaint handle, worn by i)hantoni fingers, 
Note the small dints along thy battered margin, 
Then passing on, to die and be forgotten, 
Leave thee immortal. 



XIY. 

THE DOOR-MAT MAN. 

"MoTiiKU," SJiitl r.niiu'U<! Olio evening, "do you 
renuMnbor tliut old blind man who generally hIiukIh 
there near tlio Cla])|) hovisc, on Congress street, beg- 
ging, witli his wife?" 

" Yes," answered the jiiother, " he has been a famil- 
iar figure there for years. He generally lias a door- 
mat or two, ostensibly for sale, but nobody ever seems 
to buy one, so it. nniouiil-s to beggary, after all." 

" \'(!s," said lirunette, " and when I tried to find 
out something about tluMu, I was toM that the woman 
marricil thai, blind man out of pure l>ily; that sh(^ has 
some (ihildreu, men and wouu'u, with either of whom 
she might live in comfort; but she was angel enough 
to marry him, out of benevolence, and take care of 
him." 

" She don't look one mite like the pictures of 
ai.igcls," murmured Bob, who was busy mending a cat- 
<u)llar, "and she certainly isn't one of the 'angels 
ever bright and fair,' that you Hing about, and / 
should n't want to be 'taken to her care,' if the blind 
man <li<l." 

"The <M)mmandmeiit only says, 'Thou shalt h)vo 
thy neighbor <ift thyself,' " said the mother, not noti- 

151 






riiK i'i;i AN<;ri,Ai; socii'vrv 



cliij;- IhiIi's n-iiini k. "I( iKtcs n't. Niiy \vt« slioiilil lovo 
him Af /^v, or dolor iiiin w Iiat wi^ wiMild ii<»l do for 
ouis<'l\ I's. 1 1' (In- woman do«'s n't need to, and 
would n'(. In;-; lor lnMself, slio Miin>ly in n't onlUul 
ii|ion lo lii';>; lor him. There are oilier wmvm |)n»vidt>d 
for (lie snpporl o{ |iooi- l>lnid |ieit|i|e." 

"I Unttw il," rejoined Urunelte,' liu( I alwavs feel 
condennied w Iven I have (o [ciss l»y her without <'i\ii'!V 
her anylhin".. The oilier ilay wluai 1 went down 
town to 1mi\ a pair oi boots llies(< have Le|>t inv 
le(>l wet for a w I'l'U —and .saw \wv Mtandin;:; tlu-r*' in 
the w iiiil. with her I'lidi^l e^iliei* dresM vv lil|>|vin!'.' ahonf. 
lier, 1 pilied her so that I -.av e her half a. dollar an. I 
tlien I had n't nionev enon-di K-ft for inv hoots, ami 
Hliall liave to w ait I\m- them another weeU," and she 
Hl^nlu'd ••looniilv . " Unl I alw :iv s aeLtiow led:',e superi- 
ority ill anv l>odv ," she went i.^\\. "I don't Know ;i. 
man in the world, no matter how nianv eves lu> niis^Iit 
have, that / hke well eiu»n!;li to make me hind myself 
to he res|ionsil>li' for the [uinelual a|i|iearanee oi his 
thrco meals n day on the laMe, I'ven after he lias paid 
tlu' e;'"'**''"<"''^ hill; and \i't, that woman not only |>ri>- 
pares lliat man's meals, hut she prohahlv hej'S most of 
lliem lK'l"o\;i'liand, and, I dare say, fet'ds him wilh;i 
Hpoon afterward." 

" (^hiite likel V ," respondi'd her mother, "and while 
yon aie ji'ti'lUiH" with Wi>l I'lU't for want of vom- hall'- 
d.'llar, she is donhllt>ss di"v sho<l. As for hei- snperior- 
il y to you, 1 don't helievc in the newspaper doeti'ine 
that self sai-rilice and seU\'lfai'ement are tlu< erow nin;' 



Till'; DOOi; MAI' MAN. 



168 



/^loricH <>r !i \v<)iii:m. 11" lliMiliiid Imm>ii Mic ( 'i-cMior'H 
phiii, woiiKiii WKiiM h;i\i' hrcii |i|.ic('i| proMl r;il,(< iiii(|(>r 
tlic ii'vi of 111:111, ii)Hlc;nl t»r ii|iri!j;l)l. I>y liin Hide" 

" I(, '(/(«;.•< look IIkiI. vv.'iy," miiil IIik ;ni-|, iKildiiii-; licr 
<l.'iiii|i hIkk^ 1,0 l,|i(< (ii'(<, ":in<l onn oilier lliiii;'' li.'im 
Imm'ii Itonii" ill on iiic siiK << I hcraii lu IkIji Hii|i|M»rt 
iiiysflf. \{. is my cnnvicl ion l.li;i(, llx- poor |m>o|iI(', liko 
llii.-i lilimi iii;iu iiihI oilier lM';;:!;;i,rrt on I. lie Mlr(M'l,H, 
till" wmiit'ii who <i;o oiil elioiiii", .'iml l.ikt^ ill \v;iHliiiii!^, 
.'iiiil llioHc tii.iX :ir(> liel|>(>(| Ity cliurity, .'iiid hiicIi, rcully 
do nol HnlTcr ho iiiih'Ii i'roiii poNcriy mm da rt'H|»("cl,!il>I() 
people of Hin.'ill ineiUiH, ("Wpeei;illy women, who live in 
dcct'iil, lioiiHCH, keep their phuM^ in Hoei(>l,y, iiiid .'iro 
ol)li;4'(<d 1,0 iii:iiiit,:iiii :iii :ippe.'ir.'iii<M< of comroi'l., luid 
(ll'UHH like kidieH, lio iii.'llier how lillle (ln'y m.'iy li:i,V() 
to (h) it Willi." 

" My (eMclicr SJiyH you miisl, never end :i Henltmco 
will) M. propoHilioil," wdliHpered l>ol» lo luM mo(Jl(M*. 
She smiird .'ind iiodiled ;il, him, and naid — 

" 'rher<« is ri'iilly mneli IrtilJi in I li;i(, nil lioii^Ii lio- 
hody siiys so — :iloiid. I li.ive ol'leii ihoiiLijhl, lli.'it 
when my j^jre.'il-iinele eoines li;irk from I he Indies, :iiid 
lii'iii^'S me ti forlniK* of .'i. hmidreij l,lioiis:iiid hicH <>£ 
nipecH, I hIimJI iic'^tow :i. !';re;i|, p;i,rl. of it, not, bii ch.'U'i- 
l.'ilih^ Hoeielies, ;md mission.'iry eiilerprises — not on 

triimpM, !ind l>ei>;-:irM, uiid dniiik.'irdH, hiil :ilthoii;4h 

it will Iki ;i. delie:il(> hiiHiiiess to do — on those hun- 
dreds of nnh.'ippy peoph', mostly woiiu'ii, to whom self- 
respect :ind indepenileiie<' .'ire ;ih the very hri'.'lth oC 
life, — who dn\'id pity jih iiiiieh !IM they woul<l eliiirity, 
7* 



154 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

and whose lives are an agonizing struggle to appear 
comfortable, and make ends meet on an insufficient 
income. The woman who sells berries and herbs at 
back-doors, matches on the sidewalk, or apples at a 
corner, and is helped by the Widow's Wood Society 
in the Avinter, does not have half the anxieties and 
penalties hanging over her, which embitter the lives 
of many respectably dressed ladies. She is n't ex- 
j^ected to entertain people ; she is not sneered at by 
her ' set ' if she wears a last-year's bonnet, or an old- 
fashioned garment ; and not one of her acquaintances 
would ' cut ' her if she should be turned out of her 
shelter for non-payment of rent. But where would 
you and I be, if we should fail to to be ready with our 
rent, on the first day of every month ? The strictest 
Bible rule only instructs us to love our neighbor as 
ourselves," she concluded, returning to the original 
topic, " and I think, my daughter, that when you 
jDinched yourself and endangered your health for that 
comfortably-dressed beggar, you loved her not as 
youi'self, but better." 

" I wish we would get real poor," said Bob, softly, 
"and then I could sell papers, and support the family !" 

"You're a jewel, Bob," said his sister, " and to pay 
you for it, I'll read you my poem about the blind 
man's wife, after suj)per." 

" There," exclaimed Bob, " I knew that was what it 
would come to, when you began talking ! " 



THE DOOR-MAT ]\IAN. 155 

THE BLIND MAN'S WIFE. 

She leads him, when the day is fair, 

Along the smoothest, sunniest street, 
Choosing the way, with watchful care 

Before his slow, uncertain feet. 

She guards him deftly from the throng 

That crowds before or hastes behind, 
Guiding him tenderly along 

Like a lost child — for he is blind. 

And day by day, and year by year. 
She is his staff, his strength, his sight — 

The steady planet, shining near, 
"Which cheers and lights his lifelong night. 

Because she loves him. What beside 

Could keep her, all the weary days, 
His helper, savior, slave and guide, 

AVho never thanks her nor repays ? 

ISTor slow strong force, nor sudden wrench, 

ISTor both, can such a love discrown, 
Which many waters cannot quench, 

Nor floods of hurrying billows drown. 

He does not see her furrowed face, 

Her crooked form, her faded hair — 
She is to him all bloom and grace. 

But still more kind than she is fair. 

Old, feeble, poor, and blind, his whole 

Of life is darkness, want and pain. 
Yet rich in that which many a soul 

More strong and proud, would die to gain. 

Oh, with a power but faintly told 

In sweetest tales of prose or rhyme, 
Love's everlasting arms uphold 

The heaviest loads of life and timel 



XV. 

THE FOURTH TRIANGULAR. 

" Some day," said tlio mother, meditatively, as sho 
drew licr Boston rocker near the table, to oj)en a ses- 
sion of the Triangular Literary Society, — "someday 
after my shij) comes in and I liave plenty of time — " 

"Is your ship going to bring a cargo of time?" 
asked Lob, as he searched the pages of his scrap-1)ook. 

"My ship will bring money, and money means 
leisure, and leisure means all the time I want to de- 
vote to the furthering of several plans which I have 
had all my life. One of these is a i)lan to collect a 
book of verse about animals. There are many prose 
works about them, but I know of none in verse." 

" Brunette has written some poems to lit such a 
book," said Bob, — " I can count uj) — " 

"Hardly poems," replied Brunette, "I don't call 
those nonsensical rhymes by so dignified a name." 

" Yes, several of Brunette's would do," continued 
the mother, " and I remember several from older au- 
thors — and I occasionally find a more modern one, 
floating about in the newspajters. Here is one, for in- 
stance, that 1 am going to read to you this evening. 
It must have been Avritten during or shortly after the 
war, and it recalls the un])ardonable custom in vogue 
156 



TIIK KOlTuril TItlANGULAIl. 157 

aL IIh' lime, t)!' liiniiiiu;- poor woni-oiit, horses iiilo tlio 
HLre'(!ts to (lit! — t,o hu iihiiHCMl \>y cruel hoys, :iii<l to 
Htiirve to (loath. 1 reinenilier very well how many 
HiiiH of this Hoi't \vei'(! (ioinmitted in Washuit;i,oii at 
that time — I was there tiieii — and how my heait 
UHC'd to ucho at tho sifjjht ol" the pour creatures, who 
reeeived so sorry a reward Tor havliiL? helped to savo 
tho Union — like this one," 

A CAVALRV PRIVATE. 

In tlu! i^i'ticii park I lie ;^i'ass ;^n'ows fair and tall, 

The herl)aj4'e drips wilii dew, 
And IVom llie inilrodtlen places by Ihe wall, 
The clover lil'ls pink promises. Seeing; all, 

A slarvin,!^ iiorse looks lhroii;j;h,— 

A i)oor i^aiinl. aulm.il, sharp -ribhed and l(!a,n, 

A piclure of distress — 
On his (bin sid(!S are marks where blows have been, 
And on bis sbiunken shoulder may be seen 

Th(! branded sij,niH— "U. S." 

Sadly h(! thinks of other sumniei'-tides, 

Wh(!n, by the wide barn-do(ji-s. 
The fearless ehildi'en ])atf((d his sleek sides, 
And ( iiatteriuf;; nuirrily f)f future rides 

l''ed him with ai)pl(!-cores. 

No hi;di andiilion lured bis Ihoii^^bls away, 

No dreams of trotfin,i4'-parks ; 
He only heard tlut blilhesonu! (;hildren say — 
" Kext winter- he "II be ha,rnessed in the sleigh. 

And (hen, oh, then, what larks I " 



ir)8 TIIK TllIANCJULAK SOCIETY. 

His nerves were liviiiuj sictil; — liis IViiiiU! i-cplclo 

Willi iillu'SoiiH'iH'ss ;uul uriKtc; — 
His ItriL;iit iit'ck "clollu'd with MuiikUu-," and his feet- 
Tlu! \cry UMiipc^st, s\V(Mq)iii;^' licrcu and lltuil, 

Could sc.ai'cc oiilstrii) liis pace;. 

tlrccn were liic pasluiHis wlicrc^ lie, used to browse, 

In youlirs rlysian prini(>, — 
l\v nipped llie pink buds from liie, apple-bouglis 
Sbadiiii;- some pleasant farin-yard, where the Cows 

(iatliei-ed a! niilkiui;-tiuie, — 

IjowiiiL;' res|>onsive lo the phunlive bleat 

or calves, wliieli wailed lale, 
'I'elliered in liMider ;j;rass, uinnowu and svvcu't, 
Ami clover wliieli lliey bad nol learned lo eat, 

Inside I be orcbard gate — 

]Oa.cb pulliii;;' wildly at lli(> rett(U-lng ropo, 

SIrelcbinL;' bis soft neck fur, 
And callinjj; wilh a. sort of piteous li()pi>, 
For the fail' milkmaid's hand the gale to «>pc. 

And give bim bis luamuKi. 

There on adow bough hung the milking-stool — 

'I'be Ibronc^ of lunoci'iice; — 
'riieri\ when Die sumnu'i' day grcMV dusk and cool, 
'I'be liens re|)aired, and went (o roost by rule, 

I II rows along the 1'ence. 

Oh, happiness! but on the saddest day 

Tliat m'er gloomed the skies, 
Some heartless (Quarter JSlaater'a cmployd 
Espied him as he eliewed llu; fragrant hay. 

And said — " Behold a prize I 



THE FOURTH TRIANGULAR. 159 

" This iiiiiiniiJ is sound in wiml and limb, 

Willi (!Vcry ucrvi; alive; — 
Our IJiiclo Samuel lialh ruiod of him; 
I'll givo you, as he hchjuis in extra Irini, 

One lniiidr(!<l Iwcnly-li ve." 

Wherefore he bougl)t and look the hor.so along, 

To come alas, no moi't; — 
Leaving the childrcui in a W(;c|ting throng, 
])ej)Ioring audibly tiie bitter vvi'ong, 

(Jroiipcd round the Htajjle door. 

Gone with his last sweet wisp of home-made hay 

])f|icnding from bis moulli — 
Unconscious, as he walks (lie grassy way. 
How soon his huit will bi'uise in fiercest fray, 

Tlie red tields of tlus South. 

Gon(! vvbh the clov(!r langled in his mane, — 

To plough (Iii'ougb South('rn niud; 
To make sharj) hoof-priuts on the battle-plain, 
To trample madly on the Ijlceding slain, 

And bathe his feet in blood. 

J5ui what a change — and what a lossl oh, shamcl 

What lias he gained tluinjfor? 
Sinc(! in the luiyday of his youth, Ik; ("inic, 
His proud h(!ad high, liis nostrils brealbing flame, 

J>ovvn to the st^at of war? 

His bright, expressive eyes have lost their fire, 

His hum])led lu;ad hangs low; 
His fair and nervous limbs luive hiarned to tiro 
In wading wearily through swamps and mire, 

Goaded by spur and blow. 



160 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Oh, battered limbs — oh, dim and hollow eyes. 

Oh, gaunt and wasted frame! 
Youth, loved and honored — age, which all despise — 
Is this the picture held before the eyes 

Of military fame ? 

"Eepublics are ungrateful "; when, oh, when, 

Has this been proved a lie ? 
Horses are heroes, too, as well as men — 
Why are they used, abused, neglected — then 

Turned in the street to die ? 

The grass waves inaccessible, though near — 

Mocking his longing gaze — 
And from the fountain-basin he can hear 
The tinkling water-drops plash cool and clear, 

Misting in rainbow sprays. 

Soon I shall see — when breaks his patient hearts 

His gaunt form carried hence, 
With rigid limbs aimed sky-ward, in a cart. 
To some grim burial, from the town apart. 

At government expense I 

" IIow shameful it was ! " said Brunette, her eyes 
sparkling with indignant tears. " Do you really suppose 
the government turned those faithful servants out to 
die in that way ? " 

" Not directly, perhaps. But tlie government, wliich 
makes appropriations of millions to enrich swindlers, 
perhaps saved a few dollars by selling its worn-out 
horses to poor negroes and other irresponsible and 
cruel persons, who had neither money enough to buy 



THE rOURTn TRIANGULAR. IGl 

food for the poor creatures, nor mei-cy enough to ])ut 
them out of their misery. When the purchaser found 
his poor victim utterly useless, he simply drove it 
away from his door, and so shirked all responsibility. 
In walking from my boarding-house to the post-ofiice 
I have seen half a dozen of those })oor creatures. It 
was vain to speak to a policeman — he had nothing to 
do with it; it was vain to write to the municipal 
authorities — they paid no attention; and there was 
no Saint [>ergh society in Washington in those days. 
Even after the animals died, I have known them to 
lie three days in the street before being removed." 

"What a lovely place for a summer residence!" 
said sarcastic Brunette, " and how you, of all peoi)le, 
must have enjoyed living there ! " 

"It made my life wretched," said the mother. 
"Opposite my lodgings, at the corner, there was an 
old-fashioned wooden pump, an<l T have seen a poor 
old skeleton of a horse stand tliere for liours, begging 
for water, until my heart ached. People wouhl come 
and fill their pails at the i)ump, without giving him a 
drop of water, although they saw him dying for it. It 
was vain to beg them to help him to a drink. Some- 
times a boy would come with a stable i)ail, and I could 
hire him, for a quarter, to water the dying creature. 
Sometimes, too, I would borrow a jiail from my land- 
lady's kitchen, and go out and pump water for him 
myself. Hut what was the little 1 could do ? The 
poor things famished and died, all the same. But I 
shall never forget it. And now, Brunette, read some- 
thing more cheerful." 



1G2 THE TRIAXGULAR SOCIETY. 

"It soeins to mo," s:iul Bnmotte, "tlmt this is just 
tlio time to bring forward an article that I wrote the 
other day concerning a person wlioni I greatly rever- 
ence — one who lias spent years in patient and kindly 
service, amid ridicule and detraction and criticism, for 
creatures which are neither thankful for nor apiM-ecia- 
tive of good ofliees. Now, Bob, guess whom I mean ?" 

"Some school-ma'am," said Bob, with a look of 
conscious guilt. 

Brunette laughed till her eyes were full of tears. 
" You have convicted at least one pupil," she said, 
"and I shall hereafter regard your unhappy teacher 
Avith new sympathy. Guess again." 

" Somebody who takes care of deaf and dumb jier- 
sons," said Bob, recovering himself. 

" Not (piite," said his sister, "perhaps mother can 
tell." 

" Some missionary to the cannibals," hazarded the 
mother. 

" Oh no," said Brunette, " they are always baked 
before they have time to do much good ; and in that 
case it certainly cannot be said that they are not a])pre- 
ciated. l]ut 1 will read the article, and let you find 
out for yourselves." 

A HERO IN A GOOD CAUSE. 

lie iirnyotli bost who Icivcth best 
.\11 things both j^rcat :iiul small, 

For \\w ,!;i(>:it. God wlu> lovoth lis, 
llo iiKulc and lovcth all. 

"When a man labors earnestly for (he bonelit of persons 
less happily circumstanced than liimselC, — not necessarily 



TllK KOlIKTll T1MAN(;ULAR. 1C3 

1)V liiviiii;; (licm inoiicy (Hili-ij;lil, wliii'Ii is iiol, ;il\v:iys ju- 
dicious chiu-ily, but |)«'rliii[)S hy huiUliiijj; lidy imd coiu- 
J'orlaliic lioust'S wliicli tlicy cuu rcul, iuslcad of ]Lviii,i>; in 
uuclcnu, uuwliolcsonu^ and dilapididcd IciKMncnls; pcr- 
liaps by providiui; sonu^ cheap iunuscintMil. which may l)0 
■williin llio ivach of (lie luuubh^sl })Ioddoi"; in ca,s(>s like 
Ihis, even wlieu llie kiiid-liear(ed oi'in'inaloi- of the plan 
uclually recovi'i's his ouHay, really losiuij; nt)lhinn', possi- 
bly gaining sonielhing in a Iinancial way, by ]\is (ransac- 
tion, wo do not hesilab lo call him a- philaulhropisi ; lo 
say Dial he. has doiu" a gooil work i'or humanity, and to 
lidiKii' him accordingly. 

And wluMi, as randy liappens, ho labors in Iho cause of 
humanity witliout plan or hopi; of recompense; when ho 
gives his lime, his strength, his money and his sympathy 
to sul'I'eriug human beings, as did lOlizabeth (iurney I'ry 
atid John Howard, wc have hardly w'ords to exi)ress our 
admiration and revertMico for grealneiss oC soul so un- 
usual, I'or teudci-ness and zeal so ardent- and scdf-sacrilio- 
ing. We <lo not hesitate to say thai he is entii'cly disin- 
terested, that, ho works for others with no thought, oC 
S(dl"-aggrandizenient, oi' rcnvard, that, Ids laboi* is with- 
out money and without ])rice. And yet, IClizabefh I'ry 
and John Howard, liki; all other kind and genlle-natured 
persons who, as ben(d'a.ctors and fricMids, come in direct 
contact with unfoi-lunate and oppi-csscd humanity, did 
receive the sweetest of all eai'thiy C()m|)ensalions for their 
hibors of lovo, — the thanks and gi'atitude of thousands of 
lunnan hearts whicli tludr kind ministrations, their uu- 
sellish devotion, luul touched and softened. W he is a 
benefactor to the human race wdio makes t wo sjx'ars of 
grass gi'ow where one gi'CAV Ixd'ore, how nuitdi more a 
benefactor is he who wins from the arid and unfruitful 



1G4 TIIIO TUrANGULAll SOCfETY. 

soil of luiinaii licarts, pMrclicd by uc^lcci and hiirdonod 
by criine. Ilic sweet and lieidiiiu; ;;Towlh of iiii(l3'in,!^f ^'"d- 
iliide and leudei' I'emeiuhrance ? And lie who achieves 
this, has, even in this lil'e, his reward — the oau'er thankful- 
ness of those for Avhoni he has labored and suffered, and 
tlie i-cpaying love whicli not, only sweetens all his days, 
but after his ij;enerous heart has monlder(>d into dust, 
keeps his nu;mory fragrant among men l'()re\eiinore. 

l>ut if Ave accord the qualities of unsellish generosity, 
disinterested kindn(>ss, and n-al t(Mi(l(>rn(!SS of heart to 
those who receive for their good deeds the reward of pop- 
idarily, or ])raise, or the spontaneous gratitude of cvoii 
the lowest of the lunnau race, — for all these arc rccom- 
IHMise, and desii-able, and labored for l)y many, — "what 
name shall we lind, wliat noun or adjective shall wc bring 
to describe filly a man who, not for popularity, not for 
praise, not for gratitude, deliberately takes uj) and makes 
his own Iho cause of helpless, oppressed and abused 
cri'alures, which not> only cannot be grateful to him for 
tlu^ merciful work which he does for them, l)ut Avhich, 
alas, do not even know that he helps, saves, and protects 
them? 

Not for popularity, for his harvest has been contempt 
and ridicul(>; not for ])raise, for his reward has been mis- 
representation and abuse; not for gratitude, for the suf- 
fering horse which he protects from an inhuman driver, 
or the tortured dog which he rescues from ci-uel boys, 
does not in the least distinguish him from its persetnitors. 
This man, who deserves doubly, if any man on earth can 
deserve, the name of hero, is Ilcnry Bcrgh. 

This man, who has been alternately ridiculed as a mis- 
chit>vous fanatic, sneered at as a mild imbecile, perse- 
cuted as a determiued trespasser on other men's rights, 



THE FOUETH TRIANGULAR. 165 

and held up to i)ul)lic scorn as a foreigner who, unable to 
achieve notoriety in any better way, conceived the idea 
of making capital out of the alleged inhumanity of tlio 
American people, was l)orn in 'New York, perhaps fifty 
years ago. Any man of ordinary penetration, seeing him 
and conversing with him, would be sure that Mr. Dergh 
has no especial need to search out any novel means of 
distinguishing himself from the common herd. Tall and 
majestic, with a face whoso gravity is almost melanclioly, 
excepting when infrequently it is illuminated and beauti- 
fied by the sweetest, kindest j^milc in the world, lie im- 
presses the most casual observer as a man of rare pres- 
ence and dignity, and the slightest acquaintance or 
conversation with him reveals gentle breeding and wide 
culture. His sterling sincerity, earnestness, and perfect 
freedom from self-seeking, arc evident in his whole man- 
ner, speech and bearing; insomuch that persons who 
soberly consider him "a little fanatical" are willing 
enough to admit the strength, nobleness and kindness of 
his nature. 

So far is this man from having taken up his work from 
a thirst for notoriety, as some of the New York i)apers 
would have us believe, that he resigned for it an honor- 
a])le position that hinted at much more brilliant possibil- 
ities in the way of worldly honors than he will ever 
achieve as the cluimpion of the opi)ressed brute creation. 
lie was at one time secretary of the American legation to 
Itussia, and afterwards consul at St. Petersburg, and he 
received unusual marks of honor from the Russian gov- 
ernment. During the visit of the present Czar to this 
country, a few years since, he took occasion to express 
his consideration and respect for the founder and presi- 
dent of the most humane of societies. 



166 TUB TRIANGULAR SOCrKTY. 

Mr. "Bcrgli is no "• dileltaiilo, delicale-handcMl priest" 
of seiitimentaliHm, prcnvchiuj; afar oil' against an evil 
"which he will not ai)proafli or soil his rmi;i'i's wilh. In 
the very beginning, lie bestowed npon liis Society projierty 
which was earning an annual income of seven Ihousantl 
dollars, thus proving at once liis lliorough sincerily and 
his generous liberality, — tor many a man will give his 
voice, his influence, even a i)art of his time and labor, (o 
a worthy cause, when his heart is not sulliciently alTected 
to involve liis i)ocket. Tlie amount of hard and distaste- 
ful work whicli he has done in the service of dumb crea- 
tures, can hardly be computed. In the streets, amid 
insolence and violence, in (lirty slums, among the most 
dangerous classes of New York, in dens devoted to dog- 
fighting and cock-fighting, in stock-yards, in swill-miik 
pens, and in loathsome slaughter-houses, he has spent 
]u5urs and days, shocked and sickened by scenes of dis- 
gusting cruelty, needless torture, revolting brutality, and 
the previously unpilied and unmitigated suffering of tlie 
poor creatures which liave too long been considered as 
having no rights Avhich liuman beings are bound to 
respect. Now that the atti-nlion of the public has l)een 
aroused, and the Society in New York has gained powi'r 
and inflnence, and has the strong arm of the law beliind 
it, as a supporter and enforcer of its ju-ineiples, nuicli of 
this unpleasant drudgery may safely be trusted to other 
hands. But it is not evt'u now an iniusual sight in the 
busier streets of the city, to see a noticeably tall gentle- 
man, witli a grave and, under such circumstances, some- 
what severe countenance, step suddenly from the cnrb- 
stone, and seizing a lame, over-loaded, diseased or half- 
crippled horse by the head, sternly command tlie angry 
driver to dismount, and send tlie suffering animal to Iho 



TIIK K(HJl;'l'U 'rUIAN<JIII>AU. I(>7 

kI,;iI)1<). TIk! (IrivfT liiiiiscH' in pioinplly lUTcslfd imd 

lillCll. 

'I'Ik! (•<)ii(iiiiiii! rcciiri'ciicc, of I li<'s<! mid siiniliir hcciich, 
li.'is iriadc, llic imiiif, of ,\I i'. I!ir;^li, :iiid (lii^ Sociclyof 
wliicli li(! JM IIk; li<:;id iiikI fioiil, u poHiliv'f! iiiid Kaliilary 
l(;rn)i' io (svil-docrs. In I lie ;iJ»:s('iiiir of ;iiiy hclNir iiioliv*! 
lor I lie. iiHTciriil I iniil iiu'iiL of (lie licj | lies < ;i III iii;il-i illid<',r 
tlii'.ir cliiir^c, lliis drciul vvliich Mr. I5c,r;.di ;iirl liis n'^'iilK 
inH|)ir(', in the houIs of Hiiv:i;^(! iuid unrcMiliii;^ men, li;i,s iiii 
(!X(U!ll(',lil cnVel. How |)l(',iiS!ilit, il, would lie, ii'jUl I he pooi- 
(hiiiil) cn^Jiliire:-; wlii'Ji his inllu<'ii(;(! h;is h(d|)<!d ;uid Ixin'- 
lil.cd, <;oiild know Io whom Uiey are indehled, and how 
CiiriKiHlIy and H(!ir-roi';^e,l Fully JK! has iahored in Ihiiiin- 
t(;r(!H(Kl 

" l5<d'or(; underlakiu'.^ Ilii.s lahor," he wrole, no( lon*^ 
a;?o, " I look a «;a,rel'ul Hur'vcy of all llie, <'ouHe(iu<!n<'<'S Io 
iik; p(!rHoiially, and I r(!<:o'^iiiz('(| the lad, Ihat I hIiouNI 
h(! mueh ahiHed ;ini| i-idieule(|, and hence il, was neecH- 
Hary lor uk- Io roi';L;el, niyHiill' coniplelidy." I'nl of ono 
tliiu'^ more Mi-. IJer'^h Juay ahu) Ix; Hun;; Ihal howevcir 
g(;uc',rously Ik; may Utv^vi liiniMfdr, lliei'i! ai'e IhoUHandH ol' 
gciltlo and apprecialivi; JH-arls vvliieh will nol, I'orj^cd him, 
nor coaHc, Io honor him ; an I in many a, lioiiH(diold of liii- 
(h;r houIh, his name is eherish(!(|, and the Hha.dow of his 
kind and Keiisiliv(! face; poinlfu! oul, hy lil.lh; children ax 
" Ihe dear, kind Mr. IJervJi who lakes ear-e of llie jioor 
dumh cntatures which cannol cry or speak wlien Ihey arc, 
ahuH(;d." Sur(dy, nol, IIk; leasl, of his worlliy acliie,v(!- 
montH in tho ;^ool cinicl, of his chanicter and c,xam|)le on 
ih(! minds of Ihc risin;^ fr'ineralion. IJoys are proverhi- 
ally (;rue!; hul, il, is Io ho charilahly hop(!d thai, tlieii' cru- 
elly is f^enerally the, r(!h;uit of either tiioui^lithjKsnesH or 
imitation. And it would ho well if every mother in tlie 



168 TIIK Till ANGULAR SOCIETY. 

land, inal(\i(l of drawiuir the attention of her sons to the 
ox;tni])le of :i siK-ccssrul polilici;vu, or a s(>lf-ina(lo million- 
aire, would J)1;k'(> hcfoi'i' tlicm as an ('xanii)lc, the earnest 
l)encv()l(>ncc, persistence in well-doinL:;, and disinten>sled 
tend(M-n(>ss of lieart, of lli(> jiatieut and failld'ul Founder 
and I'residentof the Anieriean Society for the I'reven- 
tion of Ci'uelt y lo Animals. 

" I like tliat," said liol), apparently ndieveil to lind 
that it eontaini'd lu) allusion t*» a, " s(du)ol-ma'ain." 

" It is only a just trihutt'," said the nu)ther, " but 
I 'm afraid tlie e(li(,or will not publish it." 

" Wc 'II see'," said lirunettt'. "Here is a rich lie, or 
rebus, or cliara«U>, J job, whichever you like, that I 
have made on jjurposo for you. Guess it and I '11 give 
it to you." 

WHAT IS IT? 

Thoui;li 1 love I he (diarms 

< )t the lionu'-lire hrii^ht, 
1 am under arms 

JJoth by (lav and nii^lit. 

»■ Nol upon my l)a(dv 

Do 1 bear my loads; 
Legs 1 do not lack. 
Yet avoid the roads. 

'JMiou^h I never sliuu 

Duty's hard decree, 
Yet some other one 

Makes my rounds for mo. 



THE FOUIITII TRIANGULAR. 1G9 

Kings may stand — but yet 

A scat is found for mc, 
Though I never sit; — 

How can these things be? 

" It is some sort of a soldier, or a sentinel, or a 
picket-guard, or an olHcer, or something military," said 
Bob. 

" But all these do sometimes sit down," said the 
mother. 

"Well, I shall study it out presently," said Bob. 
"And now I'm going to read something that I found 
the other day. I like it, and if either of you knows 
who wrote it, I wish you M tell me." 

LITTLE LONESOME. 

She was a tiniid Utile maid, 
Of even harmlciss things afraid; 
A hasty word, a sudden stir, 
A playful touch, would startle lior; 
She feared llu; liglitniug, and the rain. 
The bnincli that swept against the pane, 
The ocean's roar, the wind's sad moan, 
And dreaded to be left alone. 

And often in her 1)ed at night, 
She would awake in wild affright. 
Entreating with appealing tone, 
*' Mamma, I cannot stay alone! 
Tlic shutters groan and rattle — harki 
1 hear a wliisp«r in tlu; dark — 
(,)h, conic and hold nu; close and near, 
Manuna, 1 am so lonesome herd 
8 



170 THE rUlANCULAU SOCIETY. 

" Tho stars* poor in ami wink at me; 
Tho moon UH»ks gliasth through the tree 
Ami shines l)y tils aeross tho door; 
The shadows move upon the tloor 
Like Uving things; the windows ereak, — 
1 feel a eold breath on my eheek; 
The ehimuey howls, the wind is high, 
I an\ so lonesome where I lie I " 

And then the mother's temler heart 
Would take the little sullerer's pai"t; 
AVould haste, with reassuring kiss, 
To soothe her back to quietness; 
To clasp her thitteriug hands, smd still 
The shudvlering sob, the nervous thrill, 
Until her head fovuul happy rest 
ITpon that kind, pi\>teetiug breast. 

r»ul others hlanud her tenderness, 
Ai\ I sai 1, •• Indulgence and caress 
Will harm the civil 1 and iU> her wivng; 
She never will be bnive and sti\>ng. 
If thus YOU pet her whims and fivaks; 
You shvmld not heed her when she speaks- 
(.'onuucr her folly and your own. 
Anil let her go to slcei> idone." 

And so when next she cried at night, 
(\vUing in treu\ulous atYright, 
•' Manima, 1 hear the watch-dogs bark! 
1 am so lonesome in the dark! " 
The mother heanl, with tcai^wet face, 
lUit closcil her lips and kept her placo 
Until the child, too liivd to weep 
Iionger, had sobbed Uei'^elf to sleep. 



THE FOrUTll rUlANO.ri.AU. 171 

To-ni»:ht, tho oildyiuir snow-tlakos whirl 
Abovo the sleeping little ixirl; 
Her i-ooni is Jark, liev beil is eold. 
Love cannot warni the frozen mould; 
Yet still her mother heai-s the plaint 
Con\e thron^h the niiduiirht, far ami faint. 
Half lost amiil the ten\[H>st's moan, — 
. '• Mamnvi. I eannot stay alone! 

C"> mamn\a, eomel the wiUl wimls ery, 
Anvl I am lonesome where I lie! " 

" Well ! " said Brunette, stoutly, after a brief inter- 
view with her h;\ndken.'hief, '"where is the younsx jHn'- 
son who aeeuses iiw of being mehmeholy ? It strikes 
me, Bob, that your selection is about as melancholy as 
any of my contributiv-»ns. I have lieanl of people who 
strain at a gate aiul swallow a saw-mill." 

" I know," said l>ob, dreamily, '• but somehow I 
liked it. IVrhaps mother has something more 
cheerful." 

"Here's sometliing that must have been written by 
somebody's grandmotlier," said the mothei-, ''long bo- 
fon^ the days of conventional cat-tails and one-legged 
storks. Just listen." 

knittixg-woke:. 

I sins:: in pnvise of knitting-work — a good old-fashioued 

tluMue, 
I iispoiled as yet by hackneyed phrase, or new-fledged 

poet's divam — 
Xeglected quite, and overlooked, in this pi"ogessive day 
Of bead-work and embroiderv, >[acrame and crotchet. 



172 THE TKIANGULAll SOCIETY. 

I grieve to know that young girls now despise the gentle 

art 
Which pltn'cd iu ancient housewifery so prominent a 

l)art — 
I grieve that tlimsy fancy-work, of just no use at all, 
Usurps the place once occupied by knitting-work and ball. 

Only some good old-fashioned dame, with wrinkled cheek 

and brow, 
And kerchief pinned aci'oss her breast, like one I 'm 

watching now. 
With dress of old-time bombazine, and high-crowned 

muslin cap. 
Dares ilourish an incipient sock above her ancient lap. 

I mind me of my childish days — the vanished heretofore, 
When I longed to spend the livelong day in playing out- 
of-door, 
But, worshipping the practical, my mother made me sit 
Denmrcly in my little chair beside her knee, and knit. 

Knit, till the stated task was done — and then my work 

was liid 
With eager jo}^ and hurried hand, beneath my work-box 

hd — 
And then how gladly forth I sped to join the childish 

throng. 
With keener relish for my spoi't, because deferred so long! 

I mind me of the evenings since, in girlhood's happy age, 
AVhich, knitting-work in hand, 1 've passed above a favor- 
ite page — 
I almost hear the tinkling sound of needles keeping time 
To thrilling words of old romance, or poet's ringing 
rhyme! 



THE FOURTH TRIANGULAR. 173 

Once, knittiug, thou wort tedious — but siuee ripcv years 

wore mine, 
I 've mot with seaiuiugs every way more troublesome than 

thiue — 
Found more vexatious widenings — of care and weariness, 
And other, sadtler, uarrowiugs — where hope grew less 

and loss I 

A plea for thee, O knitting-work — a warm and earnest 

plea, 
For years of gentle inloreourse have knit my heart to thee, 
And often when dim shapes of ill before me darkly rise, 
I lind a sweet nepenthe in thy simple mysteries. 

" Tliat's comfortable and home-like," said Brunette, 
" and brings back a summer evening in the cool sitting- 
room at my dear old great-uncle''s farmhouse, with tlio 
smell of old-fashioned roses coming in at tlie •windows, 
and ])lncid aunt ]\[artha knitting round and round on 
a sock for uncle or one of the boys. But we 've had 
verse enough for to-night. Now for a ' local.' " 

A MODERN MINSTREL. 

AND THE WAV HE CARRIED COALS TO NEWCASTLE. 

The age of romance, they say, has passed away; tho 
days of chivalry, of troubadours, and plumed and bucldered 
kuights-orrant, of greaves and gonfalons, portcullis and 
drawbridge. But, sole survivor of all these old-timo 
glories, the troubadour, light-hearted wandering minstrel, 
yet remains, a living link between the dignilied past and 
tho upstart present. Xot alone in the old haunts of song 
and romance which knew him of old ; he has left his rosy 



174 THE TRIANGTJLAR SOCIETY. 

bowers for the city streets, and he even sometimes drifts 
as far north as Portland, or " as far as the ice will per- 
mit," as the Bangor steamers say in their late autumn 
advertisements. 

But the tricks and manners of minstrels have changed 
in the years, like those of most other people. Whereas 
the minstrel used to go about with slashed doublet and a 
feather in his hat, singing love-ditties under ladies' win- 
dows, and accompanying himself with a guitar, in these 
days he plays not, neither does he sing, but lets ladies do 
their own warbling, feeling that it is enough for him to 
furnish them songs of his own composition, which they 
can set to such tunes as suit themselves. So, with a 
handful of printed sheets on his arm, he tramps from 
door to door, in a shabby coat and ragged cassimere 
trowsers, soliciting purchases and rehearsing his needs, 
accompanying himself, if the day be rainy, only with a 
broken-ribbed umbrella. 

Such, and so attended, was the peripatetic minstrel who 
yesterday wandered through some of the uncongenial 
up-town streets, iDcddliug sundry printed sheets of rhyme, 
headed " Choice Poems," — probably from the fact that 
by paying your money, you could have your choice among 
'em. lie stopped ever and anon at the poorer-looking 
houses, as if knowing where genius would be most warmly 
appreciated, to urge his wares. 

" ]N'o," said a worried-looking woman who answered 
his ring, with a hammer in one hand and a saucer of car- 
pet-tacks in the other, "we don't want any vases or 
cement or stove-polish or patent yeast or rubber type or 
clothes-poles or stationery or — " 

"But, mebby," chipped in the minstrel, with a soft 
Milesian accent that would wheedle a bird off a bush, 



THE FOURTH TRIANGULAR. 175 

" mebby ye W like some of me pomes made 'em mesilf 
avery wan av "em only five cints and it 's a bad finger I 
have a fellin loilsely and can't wurruk tek wan tliin av ye 
plazc! " 

The woman really turned pale as she closed the door. 
"He's actually trying to sell verses I " she exclaimed, 
aghast -at his temerity or his desperation. "Trying to 
sell verses! Now that shows how hard the times are! " 

Further along, a poor poet was leaning pensively from 
a window. The window had a broken pane which the 
poet could not afford to mend, and his landlord was one 
of those who " never make any repairs." Now there is 
a difference between a poet and a minstrel. The min- 
strel wanders up and down in the earth, and sometimes 
gets a good meal and a cup of coffee at sentimental peo- 
ple's back doors, while the poet stays at home and starves. 
The reason is because your poet feels instinctively the 
necessity of keeping within easy reach of the almshouse, 
while to the minstrel, all houses are almshouses. The 
poet, on this occasion, was listening to a redbreast, which, 
swinging on an elm bough that she had chosen for a 
building-site, was singing rapturously, with no fear of 
house-rent before her eyes, pouring out as rippling rou- 
lades and quivering cadenzas as Ihovigh instead of having 
no listener but a needy poet without a dollar in money, 
credit or liabilities, she were trying to please a solid citi- 
zen who had just made fifty thousand dollars by a judicious 
failure. 

Absorbed in the music, the poet forgot to worry over 
the facts that in one of the shops down-town he could get 
a suit of whole clothes for five dollars, if he could only 
command that sum, which, as he could not, might as 
well be five hundred; that his breakfast was slim to-day, 



176 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

and would be slimmer to-morrow; and that his last poem 
had been declined by the Atlantic, for no reason satisfac- 
tory to the author. Finally, the bird paused for a beak- 
full of breath. 

"Eobin," said the poet, — for poets talk with birds and 
sing to beasts, even in these daysr, " Robin, why does the 
old northern legend call you a ' breast-burned bird ' ? 
Your breast is neither the color of fire, nor of scorched 
feathers; it is exactly the color ©f the red chalk which 
mill-men use to make figures on newly sawed lumber, 
and farmers Avrite accounts with, on the inside of barn- 
doors. But it would not do to say in a poem that a robin's 
breast is the color of red chalk. And yet they tell us 
that truth is the highest charm of poetry. Alas, this is a 
world of paradoxes! " and he pulled a fringe of rag from 
his worn sleeve, and hung it on the elm bough as a con- 
tribution to the ijroposed robin's-nest. " Even a shred of 
worn-out shoddy has a value," he said, smiling, " if it be 
stmctified in the service of love and song ! " 

Just then the minstrel came along; and the moment 
he put his eye on the poet, thus smilingly dividing his 
rags with his next of kin (for was n't he a robbin' him- 
self ?) that moment the minstrel knew him for a custom- 
er, and " held him with his glittering eye." 

Now, the minstrel's eye was not winning; it was blear 
with dissipation, shifting with deceit, and full of the un- 
scrupulous cunning which comes of long experience at 
the kitchen doors of an unfeeling world without much 
taste for poetry; but it held, like the last nail in a win- 
dow-casing at house-cleaning time. And now his price 
was ten cents. 

The poet heard his tale. Listening and looking, he 
forgot his rejected poem, which was lying in the Atlantic 



THE FOURTH TRIANGm^AE. 177 

office awaiting the transmission of eighteen inaccessible 
cents for return postage — for the poem was a long one, 
and heavy, and Hannibal Hamlin insists that book manu- 
script and magazine manuscript are two things, and the 
latter must pay letter postage; he forgot that fourteen 
notes requesting his autograph were that moment in his 
desk awaiting a reply, because he had not the necessary 
twenty-eight coppers for the transmission of answers ; he 
forgot everything but the claims of suffering genius, and 
he fished the solitary dime from his pocket and gave it to 
the minstrel, taking a sheet of songs in return. 

" Verily," said he, " greater faith hath no man than to 
think poetry a marketable commodity in Portland; I will 
not destroy a trust at once so childlike and so sublime. 
But," he continued, glancing down the paper, " you are 
unwise, my friend, to sell these original articles at ten 
cents a thing-full; one of them is an excellent English 
poem which I have long known by heart, and for which 
the Atlantic people would gladly pay you twenty-five 
dollars, if you could make them believe you wrote it. 
But unluckily, 

' "When the furze and when the broom 
Glitter in their golden bloom — ' 

does not sound as though it grew in this country. Still, 
the passage on the other page, where you make ' smile ' 
rhyme with ' trial,' is refreshingly original. Go, my 
friend; this is the last ten-cent piece I have; but your 
condition is sorrier than mine; your appreciation of truth 
is not so good, and j-our rhymes are much worse. Go 
down into the lawyers' and brokers' offices; tastes may 
not be so difficult there, and money is certainly easier. 
The idea of a peddler offering verses to a poetl " he con- 
8* 



178 THE TEIANGULAE SOCIETY. 

tinuecl, as the minstrel took a fresh quid of tobacco and 
moved away; " tliere really are some people who would 
not hesitate to carry ribbons to Coventry, or boots and 
shoes to Lynn! " 

" Brunette," said the mother, gravely, as the Society 
rose to say good-night, " I don't believe the, editor will 
publish it ! " 

" Mother," exclaimed Bob, rubbing his ankle where 
it had struck against her chair, " I know now the 
answer to the riddle — it 's your old Boston rocker." 



XYI. 

A RAINY DAY. 

" Brunette, you 'd better take your umbrella this 
morning," said the careful mother, as her daughter 
was preparing for her daily departure. " It 's sui'e to 
rain to-day." 

" Oh, no," said Brunette, " it can't rain to-day ; we 
have had three rainy days already, and I will not 
encourage the weather in such behavior. Besides, the 
sky is briglitening." 

" But look at those driving clouds ! " 

" 0]i, 2)shaw, tliat 's only flying scud." 

"Very well," rejoined the mother, "but you '11 find 
it will be a skying flood before dark." 

" Well," laughed Brunette, " I '11 take my water-proof 
along, as a sort of sop to Cerberus. Meanwhile," said 
she, pausing at tlie door and rummaging in her pocket, 
"here 's my opinion of the weather for the last week. 
I meant to have read it to you, last night, but you can 
amuse yourself with it after I 'm gone." And she 
departed, while her mother picked np the bit of paper 
she had tossed back, and read : 

A WET WEEK. 

Rain and drizzle and fog and mist. — 

Fog and darkness and rain — 
Will the shadows lift from the soaking earth, 

And the sun shine, ever again? 

179 



180 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Day after day after day after day 

The clouds roll in and across, 
As though every mariner out of jjort 

Had murdered an albatross. 

Or as though some pious granger-man, 

With acres of thirsty grain, 
Had prayed with too much earnestness 

For the early and latter rain. 

Tor the worst that can befall a man, 
Be he reckoned with saints or knaves, 

— As has proved too true again and again — 
Is to give him all he craves. 

If any one knows the blundering soul 
Whose prayer was too long and wide, 

Beg him to open his mouth once more, 
And pray on the other side. 

Or if any one knows the fateful bird 
Who has brought the fog and mist, 

In spite of Coleridge, or Mr. Bergh, 
Or any who would resist, — 

Shoot him with ritlc or good cross-bow, 

Or smite him with lire and sword. 
And hang him about the stubborn neck 

Of the obstinate Weather Board I 

" It is an extremely melanclioly evening," said Bru- 
nette, comuig in, just at dark, wet and draggled and 
(lri])plng. She liad i)urposely cntei'ed the house by 
the back door, and come uj) the back stairs, so as not 
to take lier dripping garments into the sitting-room — 



A RAINY DAY. 181 

and as she stood in the middle of tlie kitdicn 
floor, she looked like a modern Undine just emerge*! 
from her fountain. The rain fringed her \vatcr-i)roof 
with little streams which made a circular puddle on 
tlie floor around her ; her hat, with its soaked plume, 
looked, as IJob remarked, " like a wet hen" ; her hair, 
esca])ed from its fastenings, lay in a wet, curly tangle 
about her shoulders ; her sodden gloves stuck tight to 
her hands, as she tried, with half-nuinl) IIng(M"S, to pull 
them off. Even her eyelashes were diamonded with 
rain. But since Brunette began lu^r (hiily pilgrimages 
to the ofKce, she had grown accustomed to all varieties 
of weather, and did not much mind rain. 

" It is rather odd," she laughed, "how my und)rella 
always manages to keep dry, no matter how wet I am. 
If 1 take it with me in the morning, the day always 
turns out fine, and I have to drag it b:u*k in bright 
sunshine, with perhaps a package or two, and my arm 
full of books. When it rains, I have always left it 
behind, either at the house or the oflicc." 

"I thought you foiled fate about that," said tho 
mother, taking off tho dripping water-proof. " S(!0 
here, why don't you have a gutter built round tho 
bottom of this thing, with a spout leading off behind, 
so as not to have tho water it sheds poured directly 
on your feet? I thought you arranged all that, by 
getting a second umbrella, so you could have one hero 
and one at the office ?" 

"Well, so I did; and if you will open the hall-closet 
yonder, you will see them both hanging there, dry 



182 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

ami comfortable — doubtless hngginft tlieiuselves with 
deliglit at the tliought that I am wet almost to the 
skhi. Umbrellas are gregarious. jNiy two are alwavs 
togetlier. The other morning when it rained so, as I 
started down-town, those ingenious conveniences were 
both high and dry at tlie otiice. That second umbrella 
was a bad investment. It" I had a dozen, it would be 
just so," said Brunette, winding up her wet hair. 
'•But it's a peculiarly lonesome evening; the whole 
out-door world seems full of the spirit of late autumn ; 
— you hear it, you see it, you t:iste it in the air, you 
smell it, and feel it — it appeals to every sense, and 
your soul too ; and it is so depressing and hopeless 
that it is picturesque. I wish I could paint a picture 
of it." 

"Why don't you?" asked peremptory Bob, who 
generally found it hard to believe that people cannot 
always do as they wish. 

" Ah," said Brunette, " I could only make a pen-and- 
ink sketch, and not a satisfactory one at that, I 'm 
afraid." 

"Oh! "said Bob, going to the street window and 
putting his head under the curtain, " you mean a 
poem ; but I don't see any tiling very poetical in 
foaming gutters and bare trees and dim gas-lamps and 
little door-yards and wet roofs and Mrs. Brown's 
dripping line of clothes and an old man in a cart 
Avhii'ping a sopping-wet horse and umbrellas and mud 
and people waiting at the corner and swearing about 
the street-oars and — " 



A RAINY O AY. 183 

" Bob," said his sister, ** you have the cfrofttost knack 
at inventories ; I never knew anybody so rapid and 
eoni{nvliensive. And it 1 ean reinen\ber all thai you 
have said, and all that 1 have seen, 1 will attempt the 
{ueture, after sui>j>er." 

And by beinLC allowed to sit up a little later than 
usuftl, l>ob was enabled to hear the followinu' verses, 
wlueh Brunette ealknl a versitied version ot" his in- 
ventory, and whieh he dignitied as "a portrait of 
Conn'ivss street on a rainy night in the dismallost time 
of tlie year." 

A DECEMBER NIGHT. 

All day the sky has been one heavy eUnul, 
All day the divps have plashed aixainst the panes, 

The brinuning eaves-spouts gurgled lull and loud ; 
Anil now tlie night has eonie, and still it i-aius. 

The fiv»sts and ritling winds, those treaeherous thieves. 
Have stripped the shivering branehes stark and btuv; 

Bwneath, the walks are thiek with trodden leaves, 
Mhieh till with woixlsy odoi-s all the air. 

Yon street-lamp glows, a disk of hnninous fog, 

Idghting a little space of nuid aiul nxin, 
"Where hurrying Avayfarer or homeless dog 

Starts sudden into sight, and fades again. 

Its faint gleam struggles with the dark, ai\d shows 
A lonesome dooi"-yanl, with its leatless vine, 

And Monday's luckless washing. — rows on rows 
Of dripping g-.u-nieuts hanging ou the line. 



184 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Along the roiulside gutters rush the streams 

Like turbiil rivers in a summer flooil; 
AucI at the crossings, drivers urge tlieir teams 

To splash the wroth pedestrian with mud. 

From far across the harbor, low and faint, 
A fog-horn's friendly boUow greets the ear; 

Or some slow, cautious steamer's hoarse complaint, 
AVarning its kindred not to come too near. 

Small knots of draggled pilgrims stand and wait 
Upon the muddy curb, and peering far 

Up street and down in vain, laid fault with fate, 
And sharp Iv blame the dilatory car; 

Their grouped lunbrellas, by the hazy light 
Obscure and dim, grhow through the vapors dense 

Like clumps of toad-stools, born of rain and night, 
Huddled beside some roadside pasture fence. 

One ray redeems the dreariness and blight, — 
The window-light which streams across the square; 

The light of home, — the blessed, saving light 
AVhich keeps the world from darkness and despair. 

Ah, happy they who in its warmth abide! 

Peace sits among them, with her fair wings furled; 
"What care they for this wretched world outside, — 

This darksome, dismal, drear December world? 



XYII. 
LOOKING OVICR THE WALL. 

" What a lovely old i)lacc that lonesome garden is, 
across the street," said Brunette, one day, approaching 
the window where her mother stood looking out. 
" How lusli everything grows there, and how pretty it 
is, altliongh all summer so unpruned and neglected ! 
I can even see the red of the currants, all this distance 
away, there are so many of them." 

"Yes," said Bob, "and earlier in the summer there 
were so many Johnny-jumi)-ups in the grass-borders 
that I could sec 'em from that window — all fachig 
this way, and all grinning together." 

" IIow absurd ! " remarked his sister, " to talk about 
those lovely pansies 'grinning'! " 

"Well, they do grin," persisted Bob. "When T 
asked mother what 'grin' meant, she said it meant a 
sort of fixed smile ; and those flowers never stop smil- 
ing, and they somehow always seem to have enormous 
mouths, and arched eyebrows, like the clown in tho 
pantomime, for all tliey 'ro so pretty. And I used to 
long for a handful of 'em, they were so bright, and 
nobody ever seemed to gather any ; but though all 
the other boys climbed the wall and broke off great 
branches of apple-blossoms, mother would n't let mo 

185 



186 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

go and get a single jump-np. And one day a man 
came and mowed 'em all down with the grass, and 
made hay of 'em. I never can do anything that other 
boys do," 

" Ko, my son," said his mother, " not when ' other 
boys ' go into private enclosures and steal what grows 
there. You could do without the pansies, but you 
could n't do at all avcII without a clear conscience." 

" You call 'em pansies," said Bob, evading the point 
he had raised, " and I 've heard Brunette call 'em 
heart's-ease ; and some of the girls at school call 'em 
ladies'-delights ; and the old (lerraan woman who used 
to bring us milk, said they were step-mothers ; but I 
like the name of Johnny-jump-ups best, because they 
always look so bright and jolly, and seem to spiing 
up so lively, before there are many other flowers. And 
last sjiring, when Brunette planted some seeds of that 
same kind of flowers, out there in what she calls her 
flower-bed — (7" believe it 's nothing in the world but 
a plat of coal-ashes — ) she put a little flat stick down 
in the ground by them, like a grave-stone, and wrote 
on it ' Viola tricolor.^ And I guess it v;as their grave- 
stone, sure enough, for not one of 'em came up, and 
so nobody had a chance to try their color, after 
all." 

For a wonder, Brunette did not reply. Her eyes 
were fixed dreamily on the bosky greenness of the 
lonesome garden. " Mother," she said, " the man is 
dead who used to own that garden, and walk up and 
down its shady paths. How pleasant it was to have 



LOOKING OVER THE WALL. 187 

that secluded sjwt in tlie midst of tlie town ! Did you 
ever see him ? " 

" Often," answered her mother. " He was a stately 
gentleman, with a handsome, clear-cut face, and a fine 
presence; and he was, I believe, that rare being — a 
conscientious politician. I wonder how many persons 
think of him as often as I do ? I never glance at the 
garden, winter or summer, without remembering him ; 
and there is not one of our rooms from which it is not 
visible. And yet, that man probably never heard my 
name, or saw my face, in his life. I wonder if any 
stranger will remember me like that?" 

" I hope not," said Brunette, " it seems a little 
melancholy. But I never look over there at twilight 
without half-fancying that I see a dim, tall shadow 
passing slowly in and out amid the foliage. I suppose 
it is the wind blowing the shrubbery and the low 
apple-boughs." And Brunette went uj) stairs. 

FESSENDEN'S GARDEN. 

From this high window, in the twilight dim, 

I look beyond a lofty garden wall, 
And see well-ordered walks, and borders trim, 

With trellised vines and rows of fruit-trees tall. 

Along the darkling shrubbery where most 
The garden's olden lord at evening strayed, 

I half-perceive a silent, stately ghost. 
Taking dim shape against the denser shade. 

His footstep makes no rustle in the grass, 

Nov shakes the tenderest blossom on its stem; 

The light leaves bend aside to let him pass, — 
Or is it but the wind that touches them? 



188 THE TEIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

A statesman, with a grave, reflective air, 

Once used to walk there, in the shadows sweet; 

Now the broad apple-trees, his pride and care, 
Spread tlicir pink carpet wide for alien feet. 

Beneath those friendly boughs, with thoughts unbent, 
He found sometimes a respite sweet and brief, 

Threaded the wandering ways in pleased content, 
And plucked a llower, or pulled a fragrant leaf; — 

Twined a stray tendril, lopped a straggling limb, 
Or raised a spray that drooped across the ivalk; — 

Watched unscared birds that shared the shade with him, 
Saw robins build, or heanl the sparrows talk. 

His native streets now hardly know his name,— • 

And in the world of politics, wherein 
lie toiled so long, and won an honored fame, ' 

It is almost as though he had not been. 

Amid the earnest councils of the land 

His lofty form, his cold and clear-cut face, 

His even voice and wise restraining hand 
Are known no more, and others take his place. 

Within this haunt of quietude and rest 

Which for so many years he loved and knew, 

The bird comes back to build its annual nest, 

The months return with sun and snow and dew; — 

Nature lives on, though prince or statesman dies; 

Thus mockingly these little lives of ours 
So brief, so transient, seem to emphasize 

The immortalily of birds and flowcrsi 



XYIII. 

JOHN, THE FLY. 

Peesons who have an affectionate temperament, but 
neither the time, the talent nor the fine clothes ne- 
cessary to enable them to have many friends, are very 
likely to take kindly to pets. For this reason, or some 
other, Brunette, who, one sharp morning, was diligent- 
ly dusting the picture frames with an old tissue veil, 
which in this frugal household, did duty for a feather 
duster, exclaimed with sudden animation, "Well, if 
there is n't a live fly this awfully cold morning! Do 
you suppose he has just hatched, or has he been hiding 
about, ever since his friends vanished ? There he 
goes! — how summery his Avings sound! But, dear 
me, one fly does n't make a summer, any more than 
one swallow." 

" One fly would be as many as I should care to 
swallow at a time," observed the mother, " and doubt- 
less—" 

" What becomes of all the flies in the fall ? " ques- 
tioned Brunette, diving abruptly into entomology, as 
she watched the solitary insect sailing across the 
room ; " and why, just befoi-e they disappear, do they 
suddenly turn carnivorous, and bite so '? " 

" And what makes 'em, when they feel sick, go and 

189 



190 THE TRIANGULAK SOCIETY. 

hang themselves up by one leg, and die, and turn blue- 
mouldy ? " queried Bob, who always had a question 
ready. 

" It 's hard accounting for their disappeai'ance," 
replied the mother, who, like raoi^t heads of families, 
hated to say "I don't know" to any question. '^A 
great many of them are eaten in soup during the 
season ; bhieberry-cake and pies offer great induce- 
ments to those who wish to commit suicide without 
anybody's knowing it ; early mince turnovers are also 
excellent places of concealment for them Avhen they 
are weary of tlie world ; some are drowned in milk- 
pitchers, and some are killed by getting into the 
mouths of sleeping clmrch-goers ; and the few who 
remain until cold weather, go out of doors and freeze 
up with the country. And naturalists say that the fly 
which bites so in the fall is not the same kind of fly 
at all, but only similar m appearance ; and he does n't 
bite in July because lie is n't born until September or 
October — which is fortunate for us. But we '11 let 
tliis fly stay with us ; 1 like to hear him buzz," con- 
cluded she, wisely ignoring the other question. 

And so the belated insect was domesticated in the 
family ; indeed, within a day or two, he was actually 
named, and was familiar to all the household as 
" John," and became a welcome and privileged guest 
at the table and fireside. He seemed to appreciate 
his popularity, being always looked after and pro- 
tected from all the dangers Avhich beset his kind. 

Of course, as the sole survivor of his race, he at 



JOHN, THE FLY. 191 

once developed unusual excellencies. One said he was 
uncommonly intelligent; one thought his wings re- 
markably fine when seen through a magnifier ; and 
Bob declared that he had uncommon speed and grace 
of flight, and tremendous staying power on the wing. 
Indeed, Bob was sure that this was the 

" Fly like a youthful hart or roe," 

which the hymn tells about ; and Brunette used to 
take him on her finger and sing, 

" Fly to the desert, fly, with me." 

John used to visit the sugar-bowl quite regularly at 
breakfast-time, and gradually developed a degree of 
docility quite surprising. Even the mother, who was 
generally greatly favored by the confidence and famil- 
iarity of dumb creatures, was astonished when, one 
morning, as she playfully pretended to pat him on the 
head, while he sat washing his face on the brim of the 
spoonholder, he suddenly ceased ducking his head and 
rubbing his hands together, crawled upon her finger, 
walked up her hand and settled himself affectionately 
on the edge of her wristband. 

" He 's getting tame," said Bob, delighted. " He 's 
getting stupid, more likely," said Brunette. " What 
with old age and cold weather, he 's actually so logy 
that he does n't know enough to fly away when one 
brushes him ! " 

" Alas ! " said the mother — (adding in parenthesis, 
" I know nobody ever says ' alas ' out of print, but 
here 's a case where it apj)lies) — that 's all the credit 



lt>2 



'niK 'iMiiANonivAi: sociicrv 



:itni;iliilil y ever <i,(^ts, in (liis world! liccMiisti .loliii, 
Hiil»(liH'(l by inist'orlniii^ toiKul down by cxpcriciuM^, ami 
rors.ikcii l)y his own kind, turns to ImniMn beings for 
H^ln|•;ll liy, lie is ul once x'olcd stii|Md, feeble, ;ind \\'li:il, 
is worse, ' lony.' 1 iii;iy bc( Ht.u|>id ; 1 hIimII probably 
Home day be i'eeble ; l)iit. I ho\H' to nicniy, nobody will 
e\ cr so i'ar oiitrau.t* my feelings as to call me ' lo.,y.' " 

i'.iil, whellier John's docility was an ont.nrowth of 
Hlii|>idily or amiability, — and it is liard tcllin;;- which in 
the more iJisastroMS atl.ribnlo in this world, when* pre- 
ternal iir.d sliai-|iness and severity ar(^ so neci'ssary, — 
he persisted in it-; and woidd travel across ])('0|>U*'h 
eyelids and aloni^ l.heir lips with the almost Feai'less- 
iiess, so thai it was almost, necessai-y for the \ ictim to 
))ick him off with thund) and lin!i;er. Once, to b(^ Huri^, 
when l>ob was (>n!i,'ai;'ed in play, John returned so pei^ 
severinLdy to attack his left, eye, that, Uob, (piilc foi'- 
{^I'tlinij; that, tlies w»'r(^ scan-e, n'aye him an impatient 
slap which sent him tinnblinif to the lloor with a littlo 
lliiid, w heie he lay prone on his back with his six 
elbows stickin-;- out, in t he tleailest, mannei-; but just ax 
Hobby ci-ied out, with sudden remorse at, his thon!j;lit- 
' less {\vvi\, John siidih'nly recovHM'ed himself and lli^w 
hcayily to the wimlow, wheri^ he spent the rest, of tho 
niornini^ in ndfbini^; iiis bruised liead and cleaniiii;' Ids 
lin«;t'r-nails, soothed and moUilied by Hob's ])n)fnso 
a|>oU)<jjioH and a Ion;;- streak of molasses which tho 
latter dri/./letl acn>ss the window-sill as a ]»(^aco- 
olTcrinuj and ]»le<lL;e of unabated affection. IndcH'dj 
the heaps of sugar, tlii^ slops of milk, and thiuhibs of 



JOHN, riiio Ki,v. 



VX\ 



HOrnpi'il ;i|i|ilt' uliicli K<ili <li'|iosilr(| oi) llir |tl.'iiit hI.iikI, 
i\\ii liiirc'iii Mini (li(^ wimlow hIu'II, lnr .IuIiii'h rcfirHli- 
liM-iit, :iii(l sii|i|)n|-t, WDliM liiivi^ Ix't'M Hiilliciciil; lo kiM>|> 
all tlir IlicH (,li;it, <iv('i' |iIhl';ium| I<]'!;y|il,. 

IM:iiiy :iii(l liloixl (•iniHiii)'; w<'f(i .IoIiu'h h.'iir IucmcIiIi 
rScapcH. Mi)l'(i iJi.'lii oner Ikmvmh I'tdllifl, lll'l.t^r II cold 
iii^lil., Ht'iiwcUwH iiiiil (<>i|iiil, on llic will! of llic kiiclK'ii, 
WJK'li llic lire li:i(l r;iilr(l to k('('|) over iiii'liL < )ii Hiidi 
odc.iiHioim li<^ W!in liioiii'lil. Icndcily in jiihI vv.iimkiI l»y 
iln' (liniii;jf-r<»()iii hIovc, uinl iiih4m1 uir('<Mi(»imt,<>ly (onl-iiy 
<iii llic in!nil.cl-|iit'('c hcliiiiij (lin Ml,()v<^-|»i|»i', iiiilil tli(< 
Kilclii"!) l('iii|n'i;il MIC hIiouIiI I'Ihi' !l I'll. lie. IMort' lliiiii 
oiitu' lie \v;iM rt'Mcii('<| Jrom l,li<i HtrMin'm^ brink ol' tlici 
H<)n|i-liin'fn, iind icinovi'*! rrnm tcni|»l,:ition ; iiiorr lliiiii 
once li(^ w.iH I'iMiiid I'l r)»|y Htni^';jj;linj^ in lln' w.mmIi Itovvl 
;ind (',Mr<'riilly dried on ii hoII. l.ou'cl ; luid one,*', \\ In-ii 
(lie iiiolliiT wiiH wipiii'j; IIh' lliior, hIic m;i\v him, Hoiiki'd 
;ind willed l»y \v;inn will, it, lulliiifj; over :iiid kirlviiij^ 
ill('IT<'<'t :ii:ill V undir (he ri\yi\ oi' {,\\r nnt)» clolli. lint 
(wt'ii iJiiil, hIiocIv Ik^ Hiii'vivcd ( iiMiM|>h;iiil ly ; l.lion<.di il, 
WIIH iirtcrwiird lii,ir-HUH|)('rl;('d Ih.-il ,i, |iro<'('HH of one of 
liis iniddNi Icj^H WMH injuifd in lln' hl.ni;f!dc, HiiH'<Mm 
iK'XM'r H<'<'ni»'d l,o li;iv(i <',oiii|»l(^l,('. control of i(, iiriciu'iinl. 
'riicr<'jil'l;('i', more <',;iiiljon vv.'iH ohscrvcd ; I'.nincl.l.c vvhh 

(^•lirl'iil lo Hcc lli;i|: lie did liol. follow ln'l" illlo (lie Cdid 

ii;ill wlicii hIic wcnl, up nliiiiH lo Ixd ; :ui<l it, wmh miid 
llijit, l,li<' iinttlicr never cloned :i, door willioiit. (irHt, look- 
iiifj^ (o HIM" if .lolin were in flic cniek. 

One d:iy :i, iicifj;lil)or, |»rcl.l,y Mi'H. Krier, culled. Sim 
li;id not, been Hc:ii,ci| live niiniifcM wlicn .loliii Hew itil.o 
1) 



194 THE TinANCiULAU SOCIETY. 

live room, niul jicri'liod directly on the (i|) of lu>rlittlo 
white nose. Slio sliook him oil, Imt John retiuiu'd 
again, and vot attain, nn(il she was on the point of 
si'ttliuL!; him with a sharp spat, whin Unnictte cricMl 
out, " I>t>n't kill him — that's .lohn, the only pet we 
have." 

"I'et?'' exelaimed i^lrs. llrier, nien-ily, "a tly ? 
AVhy, I had a (K»/,en over at my house; and I watched 
until they aliuhted Imv eni>uo;h for me to reach \>m, 
and killed tluMii all with the slap of a newspaper. Our 
moriuui;' |)aper is iirst-rato for that. It comes (h>w n 
solid, and they never know what hurts them. I wish 
I had known you liked 'em — you should have had 
'em e\ ery (Uie." 

''Oh, no," ri'plied JJrunette, "•it is only .lohn's soli- 
tariness thatuiakes us ]u-i/.e liim. He is tlu' only ono 
of his i-aci\ and so we have a corner in Hies."' 

" I should jirefer to have my ilies in a ct>rner," ob- 
served pretty IMrs. Hrier, i^ood-naturi'dly defendiuj;- Iier 
uose against John's persistent forays, and forhearing 
to punish him as he deserved. l>ut all visittu's could 
not be depended on for such forbearance, and wlu-n 
i-entlemen-callers wimh' I'xpecti'd, .lolin was cari'fully 
waitetl out of the room w ith a handkerchief or an 
apron, bef(U'i>hand. 

One tinu>, Urmu'tte, who had peculiar ideas of 
amusement, took a fancy to have a candy-[iull ; a stylo 
of entertainment which may be relied on as the most 
noisy, the most mnssy, the most absurd, and altogetlior 
the most ridiculous known to New l-'nuland, 'i'ho 



JOHN, THE VLY. 196 

Ryni|) Av.'is ])rocur('(l, tho kettle scoured hri^'lit as jj;<>l(l, 
siud all tliiiiLi^s iiiado ready. " ])nmette," Haid tlio 
mother, proplietie-ally, " I feel certain that .[ohiTK inaii- 
glod eor))H(^ will bc^ l»()ile(l up in that candy — and llicH' 
lenjH ;[}•{' no iin|>ro\'ement. t-o taffy." 

A Htrict waieh was kent over th(( Htove, ahhougli 
John vvaH supposed to be safely shut \ip in tlu; cliiiui- 
closet ; but wiieii, after a minute's absence from the 
room, th(! niotiicM' returned just in season U> prevent 
tli(! overllow of tli(! kettle, she deseiied John, with 
despair's dark (Ires dull smoidilci'ini;- in his eye, and 
evidently bent on suicide, restini^ on the kettle-hail, on 
tli(! very brink of the boilint^ ^ulf of molasses. It was 
a, delicate matter to remove* him without sendiuL!,' him 
headloui.? to his doom, but at last ho was rescued, and 
oondncd in tho wardrobe, until safer times. 

One morning when it, was exee(!din<jf cold — cold 
enou<jjh to make the sleiL!;h-rumiers S(|ueak and f:;roan 
aloiiL? thc! streets, — cold enoiiifh, almost., to <lrive, tho 
loafers away from th(! door of the I'rebh* House, tho 
mother, on lifting!," the window-curtain, found the panes 
thick with fi-ost, and ,b)lin lian^-iuL!,- by three k'i;s to 
th(* curtain-cord. 

"(Joiu' atdasl,"said slu;. "I t.houi^dit, we mif^ht keep 
liim over winter. I'oorthin<^! I wonder if he was 
chilled to death, or only died of naiiiral decay?" 

"NatiM-al fiddlesticks," said Hrunette,. "He died 
just because we tried to keep him alive. If we had 
tried to kill him, he would hav(! lived forever, and 



196 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

increased and multiplied until the house would n't hold 
him." 

" Is ho blue-mouldy ? " inquired Bob, remembering the 
fungousy way in which some of John's predecessors had 
been taken off, Tlie mother was just about to place 
him in Bob's hand for an autopsy, when the supposed 
moribund, with a loud buzz, plunged heavily across 
the room, and alighted on a gas-globe. 

But one morning John was not at breakfast, neither 
could he be found. For some days his flight had been 
languid and lumbering, and his appetite poor. 

Bob declared that the poor thing had not eaten 
enough to keep a chicken alive, which was true 
enough, but failed to convey the idea of extreme 
abstinence which Bob intended to express. By and 
by John was discovei-ed, standing bolt u})right on a 
window-sash, with a rigidity of expression and a stiff- 
ness of legs which betokened him as dead as the late 
lamented Julius Cesar. 

" He is n't a bit blue-mouldy," exclaimed Bob. 
"I 'm glad he died decently ; but it nmst have been 
awful sudden, for he did n't even have time to shut 
his eyes." Poor Bob was fjuite dee])ly affected, and 
though it seemed impracticable to bury John in the 
garden, on account of two or three feet of snow, and 
frozen ground underneath, and the mother favored 
cremation, still Bobby employed his immediate leisure 
in composing an epitaph, which he wrote on a cedar 
shingle, to bfi erected under the lilac-bushes next sum- 



JOHN, THE TLY. 107 

mcr in memory of John. Nearly every s in tlio epi- 
taph faced the wronj^ way, mikI every n was wrong- 
Bi(lc!-to; but the sentiment was ri^ht side out, so those 
trifles were of no aceoimt. It ran as follows : 

When other flics 

Gets sick and dies 
Nobody cares and nobody cries ; 

But now our John 

Is dead and gone, 
Everyl)ody 's taking on. 
For we was very fond of him, 
Poor Jhul 

" What do you mean?" said Brunette, with that 
tone of })erem|»t()ry criticism which, somehow, every- 
body feelH at liberty to take when addressinj^ a poet, — 
especially a poet wlio works for love, not money, ^ 
"Who's Jim'? John never was Jim, and you know 
it." 

"I know," explained Bob, l)itin<>; his pencil in some 
confusion, "but ho never will know what is on his 
gravestone, and you see yourself that John would n't 
rhyme." 



XIX. 

THE FIFTH TRIANGULAR. 

"You would" Ito siir|iris(Ml," snid l>i-iuu>t(c oiio 
cvoiiiiiL!,' :is (ho l>onu> Sooii'ly i;':itIioro(l nlxmt (ho (:il»K', 
" to know liow hirgc an :vo(|u:rm(:moo I have amoiiuj 
tlio l)al)ios and yotin<<^ child ron of tliis (own. If I 
sliould i;o out, ill (ho s( roots and suiiuuou (honi (o- 
gothor, I should havo as lar;i,o a t'oUowiug as tho Tii'd 
ri])or;' 

" I don't soo liow you lind tiuio to mako a(M|uain- 
tanoos/'' ohscrvi'd (ho nioduM'. 

" 1 do no(., with grown i)ooplo," ropliod llrunetto, 
"bnt ohildron aro more (^pon to conviotion ; (lioy aro 
W(»n l»y good l)*'ha\ior, you know, h\ :\. sniilo and a 
jdoasaiit word. I soo tlioin, as I ])ass, at tho doors, at 
tlio windows, going to sohool, or husy at play. I sniilo 
a(. (hoin, ;vnd, presently, spoak (o (lu-ni; and in a li((lo 
Avhile, wo are good friends. I am on oxcolli-iU (onus 
\vi(h dozens of children wlu)SO parents 1 lu'vi'r saw.'' 

"JJut yon told ///f," said Boh, wi(h an aggrievi'd 
air, "that I nuis(- not inaki* (lu' ai'cjiiaintanee of 
strangers in the street." 

"It was very good ad\ioe," replied his sister, "hut 
a person wlio passt>s your door a(. regular hours (hn'(^ 
hnudred odd d;iys in i]\c year, ea,n hardly ho called a 
JS»S 



THE FIFTH TRIANGULA U. 11)9 

stranger, in :iny (l.-iiigcrDUH sense. And, }^(>h, when 
you have met, as many times as that, a ni(ui, H(MisihIo, 
distingiiished-Iookini^ y<"i'ig woman, with a responsible 
ox|ir('sslon ol (roiiiitciiaiicc, ami a, loa-d of hooks on her 
arm, you need n't he afraid to make her a('i|uaint- 
uneo — if she '11 allow it." 

"Of course I sha'n't," said lloh, rather sheepishly, 
" I 'm (,oo \>'\<r :i hoy to he petted in tlu^ stnuit." 

" ^'(^s, ])erha,ps so," said Ilrunettc^ '-you 're ahout 
as hirjjje as tlu; had hoys who call me an 'old seiiool- 
nia'am ' when I stop Ihem from liirowing sti>nes at 
dogs, or j)revent tlu'in from bullying little children. 
It 's a very bad si/e for hoys, — the size that j)leks 
cigar stumps out of iJie gutters, and goes along the 
])ea(M'ahI(> strt'cts, yelling likt* a cat'a-mouiitain, or lik(i 
a wild Indian at a war-dance." 

" I 'm sui'c ])ob does none of thost; things," said \]\o 
mother, <juick to defend her yoiingesl-born. 

" l>oh liiis more self-respect than h.ilf the young men, 
to say nothing of the h;id boys," said his sister. " I 
was n't accusing r>ol). r>oh actually knows eiKuigh to 
raise his hat when he iiiee(s his elders, nnd to remove 
it altogether when he enters the presence of ladies or 
gentlenu-n. l>ob never walks four abreast and crowds 
all comers oil the sichnvalk ; l>ob never congregates 
at the corners and stands j)eopl(i out of countenance; 
]>ob lU'ver mnkcs impertinenl remai'ks about strangers 
on purpose for them to hear; Bob never smokes in 
peopl(>'s faces; in short, I wish there were more of 
Bob, and fewer of his infei'iors. A neighborhood 



200 



TiiK 'n;iAN(!iUiAi; sociktv. 



wlitM-c ;ill I he hoys were I'mlis, would he ;i nice, (jiiict., 
t'()inrur(:il»lc pl.n-c (o lisc in, with iiiisciru-l' ciiouijfh 
jj;oiii<jj to niakc^ il iiilcii'sl'mn., :ut<l riukcl t'in>iii;li tor 
chccrfulucHH." 

Im)1» ;il\v:ivM looked more Mliiiiiicr.'K'cd wlicii Ik^ wms 
commi'iidrd (lien u lieu ln' n ;is Maiiu-d ; Itiit (iniisc \v:is 
vrry .sweet, to liiiii, ;is to most boys, ul' :i 11 sizes ; mikI 
iilt lioii!i,Ii Ik- |ifeteiide(l ((» he :ilto!4'ether |>reoeeu|)ii'<l 
with his >si'r:i|>-hook, lie lieai-d :ind .iiiiu-eciHled every 
word Ills Histcr uttcrecl, mikI iiiMile ii|i liis iitiiid to !;i\ n 
;i r:ivor;ihIe verdit't <tii whatever she mi^Iit read. 

'' l»iit lloh is nmeli older than the mass of my juvc- 
liilci friends," went on Ihimette. "They ai-e the little 
fellows who llalti'ii tlnir mtsi's ai^aiiist the wiiidow- 
paiie and crow at me as 1 if»» l»v, vv play ahout tlu^ 
door-st('|>, or on the walk in si;;ht of their mother's 
wiiulow. i have no time for calls, or visits, or parties, 
and I (U'pi'nd on tlu-se small nu-n and women, nu)stly', 
for (nilsid(> society. And now 1 will read you what 
Ihcy su<^'y;i'sted to mo." 



TIIK I!.M!\"S SMII.K. 

As Ihron'^h the hnsy s(rei>t I pass, 

(Mien, in sun er I'ain, 
I mark some pK':is;ii\l liousi'liold i;r<>U[» 

i'.eliind ;i w iuilow-panc ; 
The mother is politely blind, 

The fallicrdoes not soo, 
Ihil if a baby face is tlicro, 

The baby smiU-s at mo. 



THE FIKTII TIMANCJlIIiAIl. 201 

Dour ninlcsM soul •>!' iKiliyliootll 

Sho (Iocs iiol col'liy \\'a\1 
To riHk al>()iil my li.iiil^-accoiinl, 

Or IioikIh, or refill (islalc; 
Willi HUiiill Hofl, riicc, !i;j;;iiiisr Wui piiiKi, 

Ami (lovr-lil^c cno llic wllilc, 

Slit! beckons willi her <I;iiiily luiiid, 
Ami !Uis\v«'rs hack my smilo. 

Sim (Iocs iiol- scorn my glance hccauSO 

SIic never liciird my nanui, 
Nor (jnei'y of my social |tlacc., 

Nor(|ncslion wlicnce I ca,mc; 
!No l,(!(lioiis riilt! of cti(iiicU;(3 

llcsl rains lier loving' ;,'ra.cn, 
Orcliiilslhe winnim^ smile. Ilial, lijj;hts 

Her lovely wilil-llowei' face. 

SIic knows me hy thai nameless HcllHi!, 

'i'lial wisdom sweel and line, 
Wlii(di babies lia,V(!, ere, lime lias sjioiled 

Tlieii' innocence divine; 
'J'lial sli'aiiLre, nnerrin:,^ inai;iielisiii 

VVliicii some kind an;^(d sends, 
]5y wliicli all sinless lliini^s |>er('civo 

And rec(r'iM/,e Ibeir iiiends; 

Tli(! silcnl, sym|»alliy vvliich makes 

TIic liomcless i\(>'^ I niccl, 
For;j;et, bis biin^M'y lonesomciKiSrt 

'\\i ravvii about my feel •, 
Wliicli draws I be pif^'cons to my band, 

F(!url(!HS and IrnsH'iil slill, 
And makes Mic HO(!ia,l sparrows crowd 

JVIy Triendly window-Hill. 

9* 



202 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

All! though the work! seems full, sometimes, 

Of darkness and of dust, 
The soul is not quite desolate 

Which hirds and bahies trust; 
Life is not all a wilderness. 

Made up of grief and guile. 
While eyes so shadowless and sweet 

Smile back to eyes that smile I 

" I like that," said Bob, heartily, " and I love babies, 
dearly. Billy Brow^n's baby-sister loves me better than 
she does him, any day." 

" That 's because you tackle more kindly to her 
perambulator," said his mother. " I see you chained to 
her chariot very often. Yes, babies are good friends ; 
they don't insist on form and ceremony, and they are 
not punctilious respecters of persons. And children 
do not always forget their friends, either," she con- 
tinued, — " hear this." 

A COUNTRY SCHOOL-HOUSE. 

I see a picture in the air; 

A country school-house, low and square, 
With plain pine desks and dusty floor, 
And whittlings all about the door; 

A boyish teacher, young but wise. 

With gentle face and kindly eyes — 
And, faltering through her lessons there, 
A little girl with yellow hair. 

How sh}' she was! what real distress. 
What conscious sense of awkwardness 
Burned in quick color on her cheek, 
When came her dreaded turn to speak I 



THE FIFTH TEIANGULAPw 203 

How kind he was I his ready aid 
Assured her timid soul, and made 

The path of study plain and sweet 

Before her hesitating feet. 

How long, how long ago it seems I 
Like some fair vision seen in dreams, — 

That cool bright autumn time of yore, 

"When he, a bashful sophomore, 
With cheek that changed from pale to red, 
Taught to a puzzled yellow head — 

His youngest pupil, in whose eyes 

Kot Solomon was half so wise — 
Within that country school-room's walls, 
The mysteries of decimals. 

Alas, alasl to what intent 

That labor over rate per cent., 
And toil at compound interest. 
By one with nothing to invest ? 

Whose only venture, was, in truth, 

The vague, sweet hope, the faith of youth. 
Which early dwindled to its end, 
Nor paid a single dividend ? 

No school-girl now his peace disturbs 

By tremulous tilts at nouns and verbs — 
Alas, how fast the years have flown! 
Now he has children of his own, 

Tall boys in college, girls in trains; — 

His busy heart no more retains 
The features of that child of ten. 
Who made a hero of him then. 



204 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Than Sandy liiver keeps, this lunir, 
The face of .some Avild meadow-flower, 

Which grew and blossomed, shy and low, 

Beside it, twenty years ago. 

Yet it is more than many gain, 
In this estate of change and pain. 

To be forever set apart 

The hero of a thankful heart, 
AVithin that temple undetiled, 
The grateful memory of a child; — 

To hold, in spite of time and space, 

So sacred and secure a place 
As with a truth that naught can dim, 
Her womanhood still keeps for him. 

" I hoj)e some of my little friends will remember 
mc as faithfully as that," said Brujietto. "Perhaps 
tlioy would, if I were a scliool-tcachcr. Bob, do you 
believe you will be as constant to the memory of any 
one of your teachers ? " 

" It 's a great deal more fun to go to school in the 
country than in town," said Bob, dodging lier ques- 
tion. "I went to school a few days once when I 
was in the country, and it Avas n't lialf so tiresome. 
The birds sang close to the school-house, and a big 
butterfly came in at the window. No, I don't think 
I like school much," said candid Bob, "and I think it 's 
all nonsense singing about how we love our teachers, 
and we 're glad vacation 's over, and all that. 1 know 
/ 'wi never c;lad when vacation 's over. But I had some- 



TiiK inrrii TKiAN(aii,Ait,. 205 

tliliic; to r(^ii<l :il)()iit .i l):il»y — HiMnclliiiij^ I loiiiid in :iii 
old iU!\VH]>ii|tcr." 

THE SUNSHINE SONG. 

A li(ll(! child of lhr(H! hrit'Iit ye:irH 
Undimincd |»y cuc^, uiisliiincd hy learn, — 
P'roiii whose piirc! Koid was iiol, yet, rivt'ii 
'l'h(! iiiiisii; oi' ilH iialivc, heaven, 
Iiuplored and ))iead(;d, ol't. and \<>u<^. 
" () niolher, ,sin^ the siin.sluiie tson^ ! " 

'VlW: nioljier sanL( lull many an air, 
'J'hu j^ay, the Had, tliu Hwcet, Ihu nirc, 
Bnl, uonv could |»leiiH(^ tlie. lislcMlilig cinid, 
Who .shook her head, and Hudl}' RUiiieii, 
Ah onc! who chides a n^rievoiiH vvron}:,', 
" O niolher, ning Ihe HUiiHhinc Hon^ I " 

" AlaHl" the. mollior'H voice, roplicH, 

Whih) Ur.iVH drop Hol'lly from ]u'.r (!y(!H, — 

"I know iLnol, — J never Iniard 

'J'he huiihIuiu! Hon<^, my Hin^inj^-lnrdl " 

Y(!t Hiill Hh<! pleaded, ol'l, and lon;^, 

" () molher, sinL!, the sunshine son;j;! " 

Spring (tame,; and ere ils i*ei,L;ii wan pawl,, 
TIk! child'H HWCdL lile was (ihhint; I'asl,; 
And liiroii^h Ihm- loni^ delirions hourn 
Jle.r lispinLjH wei'e ol' hees and llowerH, 
Min;^I(!d and saddened, all ni^hl, lon^, 
With plcadiu^JH tor thu suushinu HOiig. 



206 THE TEIANGULAK SOCIETY. 

Hours passed; and-on her mother's knee 

The child lay dying; suddenly 

She clasped her little faded hands, — 

" O mother, hear! — those shining bands — 

— The tune I 've waited for so long, — 

Mother, they sing the sunshine song! " 

The lifted hands fell feebly down, — 
Death's white hand rested like a crown 
Upon her brow; — in holy grace 
Her face was as an angel's face; 
And she had joined the seraph-throng 
Who sing, in heaven, the sunshine song. _ 

" Bob, my Bob, that is n't a bit merry," said his 
sister. " I '11 read you something funnier — sometliing 
that happened to a nice young gentleman friend of ours 
tlie other day at the islands. Every word true, too." 

A MOONLIGHT EXCURSION. 

Of all the disappointments in life, not one is so funny, 
to lookers-on, as that which sometimes waits on a day's 
attempt at harmless pleasure. If persons who do only 
evil, and that continually, were so foiled and balked and 
baffled in their vicious plans, as is the most respectable 
citizen, sometimes, when he is trying to be innoxiously 
hapi:»y, the criminal list of the country would be much 
shorter. 

A gentleman of this town, whom the chronicler will 
designate as Jones, chiefly because no one else does, 
lately formed a plan to join a so-called moonlight excur- 
sion on the Tourist, and enjoy a dance at Peak's Island. 



THE FIFTH TRIANGULAR. 207 

From that moment the demon of ill-kick claimed him 
for its sport. He called on two young ladies to request 
tneir company, but they were both absent. He made 
another trial, but lady number three was also away from 
home. A fourth attempt was successful, but as the invi- 
tation was necessarily somewhat late, the lady was not 
ready, and her cavalier was obliged to wait a few 
minutes. 

A few minutes too long, as ap2:)eared when they 
arrived at the Tourist's wharf, and dimly beheld her 
steaming away into the distance, with a vigor and speed 
which would have been much more satisfactory if the 
tw» observers had been on board. But Mr. Jones was 
not one to be balked in this way. He had invited the 
lady to a dance on Peak's Island, and to a dance on 
Peak's Island she should go. It was discouragingly 
dark ; all the " moonlight" of the excursion appeared to 
have been expended in the advertisement. But moon- 
light or not, he was going. 

Presently, by a lucky accident, or what seemed so at 
the time, he descried two men just pushing off in a row- 
boat, and in desperation, offered them " a silver pound " 
or so, to row his select party to Peak's Island. " Money 's 
no object," they observed; "can you row?" No, he 
could not row; he could catch crabs with the best, but 
oars in the rough he knew little about. But finally, the 
boatmen, who turned out to be a couple of campers-out 
on Hog Island, about to return there, very kindly con- 
sented to take the pair on board, and went out of their 
wa}^, of course, to land them at their desired haven. 

On arriving, Mr. Jones rose up in the darkness, for 
sombre thunder-clouds were gathering, selected his lug- 
gage — he had been wise enough to bring an overcoat, 



208 THE TRIANGULAU SOCIETY. 

Jiiid, of course, llie Indy liad l)i-()unlil ;i wal(Mi)roor, — and 
went, ushoi'ii, with in:i-iiy tlmnks lo Uie unsuspecting gcn- 
tk'incu who luul shown liinj so much courtesy. 

On reaching the halls of dazzling light where (he fan- 
tastic toe was already in motion, what was Mr. Jones' 
surprise to lind that the bundle which he had selected 
as his lady comjiauion's water-proof, was really not hers 
at all, which she had at that minute on her shoulders. 
On being unrolled, it proved to be an unfamiliar coat and 
V(^sl, and, oil, hdiTor! in llu^ pocket of llii! latter weni a 
fat poeket-l)()()k, a gold watch, and various other valua- 
bles. What had he done ? lie had rewarded Ihc kind- 
ness of the gentlemanly Hog Islanders by stealing their 
clothes, their chronometer, and their money ; ho had 
been guilty of a sort of aquatic highway robbery, a high- 
handed outrage on the high seas, which he at onco 
tiiought it high time to atone for. 

Down to the wharf he went again, in the threalcning 
darkness, lugging the ill-starred bundle, and after somo 
dtday and worry, succeeded in bargaining with two of 
the sally veterans who seem to haunt whaiwes, like the 
ghosts of wicked sailors doomed somehow never to get 
away from port , to take him over to Hog Island, where 
he could eat a suitable piece of humble-pie, and return 
the c()ulisca,ted properly. Music might arise with its 
voluptuous swidl on IV'ak's Island, and I'yes might look 
love lo eyes that spake again, but as for him, he nuist 
lose the rosy hours in 2)enilenlial pilgrimage. 

Arriving at Hog Island, he was quite as much at sea as 
over, since he had no sort of notion as to the locality of 
the persons he sought; but after a while, ho managed to 
descry a distant light in the darkness, and pursuing, lind 
it iu the camp of his benefactors. Only to discover, how- 



THE FIKTII 'ritIAN(!UI-Ai:. t^09 

cvor, llu'.t tho iniic, owner of I lie himdlc, stiiiiu; by I lie, 
iippiinuil, innnUitudc. of liis whiiniu [lassi'ii^^iii', Iiiul g'oius 
(() Teak's Island (o oveihaid liiin. 

Afler ii k'AV niiruilc^' c^xphuiaiioii, Mr. Jones re-cni- 
biirked for I'cak'H IsliUid, ^ainini;- llu^ wliarf in lime lo 
find llu! Idilliaiil, coinpany ol' dancers, ulmse, sporl ini 
had hoped lo join, incu'riiy end)arkin'j,- in Ihe steamer I'or 
honu'. 'rin'y Iiad lia.d a. deli'^hll'nl dance, \vliil(! lie —Iks 
had only hv.cn dancinif alX(!n;lanc(5 on auollier man's 
clolhes, a, victim to a. keen sense of honor and hon(^sly. 

l)id he liad learnecl (wo lliinu;s: never to claim a hnn- 
dle wilhont examinin;.^ it, and ne.V(!i" to [xu'sist in a 
pl(!asnre-rhas(^, after (he, (h-sL step lias proved that I'aUi 
has ^ot her hack n[), and does n'L iidend lo smile on Ihe 
imderlaking. 

" What dreadful luck!" said the mother, lan-^hin^. 
" It was really too had for him to losc^ all his proiniscul 
Sport, and iiavc so niiscrahh! an evening", lor no real 
fiinlt of his own," and sIk! lanj^hcd ai;-ain. "it does 
seem odil that IIk^ stars in their courses so often seem 
to |)nt all manner of ol)sta<;Ies in the way of a harm- 
k'ss ])k'asiir(', or a really ^-ood (h'cd." 

"Ksi)e('ially," said Ihainetlts " when the man who 
starts to do an evil thin_<^ is apt to lind (!V<'i'ylhin<i; 
consenting and lu^lpfid. Prohahly if Mr. Jones had 
started for tim islands with intent to commit, ninnler, 
or set tho liotel on (ire, everythini^ vvonlil have tinned 
to his assistance!, lie would have heen in ample lime 
for tlio Ht(!anicr; thiire would n't have heen a person 
on hoard who kninv him ; his purposed victim would 



210 THE TEIANGULAK SOCIETY. 

liave met liini at the wharf, and proposed to accom- 
pany him on a lonesome walk along the most unfre- 
quented rocks. And he would have found a box of 
matches in the path leading to the hotel, and a basket 
of shavings on the back-door step, while the kerosene- 
can would have been distinctly visible on the sill of 
the open window in the kitchen. The deceiver of 
souls generally looks out for his own. But I don't 
think you are very sorry for Mr. Jones, bless him ! " 

" I certainly don't rejoice in anybody's disappoint- 
ment," said the mother, " and for his sake I am sorry. 
But on the other hand, I think other j^eople's annoy- 
ances are sometimes a goo<l thing for ourselves, in this 
way. If that string of misfortunes had happened to 
you or me, now, we should have said at once : ' Just 
my luck ! nobody else is ever so badgered by fate ! ' 
And yet you see that just such accidents happen to 
others, others who are just as deserving, amiable and 
good-looking as ourselves. By this light, it sometimes 
does me good to reflect o;i other jieople's mis- 
fortunes," 

"And speaking of the islands," remarked Brunette, 
'' I will read you a bit about Casco Bay, and then it 
will be time to break up meeting." 

TO CASCO BAY, 
Beautiful bay! I gladly fly 

Down to the shore whore your waves beat high, — 
There 's nobody here but you and me, 
Nobody here to hear or see, 



THE FIFTH TRIANGULAR. 211 

Our onl}' guests are the liirds and the wind, 
The waves before and the cUff behind, 
And the rocks are steep and hard to cUmb, 
So none will intrude on our breathing-time, 
And all to ourselves we will have the day, 
Beautiful Casco Bayl 

Tired of the town, with its selfish hearts, 

Its vain pretences and ill-played parts. 

The crush of streets and the strife of marts, 

The roll of coaches and rattle of carts, — 

And stifled beneath a worldly crust. 

Deafened with noise and choked with dust, 

My heart is a bird in the fowler's trap. 

Or a butterfly caught in a schoolboy's cap,— 

And I long to be free, as I am to-day, 

Beautiful Casco Bay! 

* 
Come, tell me some of the tales you know. 

The ocean legends of long ago, — 

The stories^told by in-coming waves. 

Of wrecking tempests and foamy graves. 

Of booming billows and shattered ships. 

And vain prayers strangled on ashy lips; — 

I 've heard you echo them o'er and o'er, 

With a mournful wail to the saddened shore, 

Though now so gladly your waters play. 

Beautiful Casco Bay! 

I love your voice as I hear it come 

Like a chorus grand, through the city's hum, 

Thrilling the fine electric chain 

That binds me to Nature's heart, again — 

That heart whose current flows wide and far, 



212 TIIIO TlMANfaiLAU SOCIETY. 

\\'li()S(^ ccMSclcss llii'olihiiij^s join- billows iirc, — 
And my liiiani soul conies back to mo 
When youi- Icallcss fon'sl of masis I sec, 
Ami 1 l\'u\<f my IuukU'uI oI" cares away, 
IW^aiilil'iil ( 'asco ]>ayl 

Adioiil I ^o — and beneath the roar 
or your headlong waves on Ihe rocky shore, 
in (lui surf-tossed sea-weed and broken shells, 
I hear a lunrmur of soft faj-(!vvells; — 
1 shall love you si 111 with a worship true, 
And Ibis wide briL;lil reach of tossing blue, 
IMiis sparkling plain, where the; gazer sees 
Tlu'. snowy-white sails blossom out in the breeze, 
Will live iu my lioart for many a day, 
Beautiful Casco 13ayl 



XX. 

THE MINCr: VIK. 

Not ni.'iiiy iiumlliM |):iss(m1 hd'orc tlu! iiiollicr liiul 
:ui (vvccllt'ut, o|t|t(»il,iinit.y Lo (iorrohoratcs licr ()|tinioii ;iH 
to llic tlilliciiIlicH wliich iiro ho Ji|)t to (nivirori iJu! 
:i(l,('iii|)t l,() <1() :i kind ;icl,i<)ii, (■S|t('ci:ill}' vvln'ii l,lu'- 
utt('iii|»t is iiiMilc |ii-iv:il,('ly. 

" I>(»1)," KJic \vliis|t('i'<'<l, ()ii«i luoniiiii:;, iil'lcr llniiictlc 
li;i(l j^onc out, jukI IImtc \v;ih no need ol' \vliis|K'i-iiit;', 
"J>ol), hit 'h you and mc! go out ((uic^tly to-iii<;lit, and 
carry oiui of thcHc nic<^ minc.(^ |ti('H to poor old MrH. 
Tlirockniorton. Sln' told iim' 11i;iI, on 'I'liiinks'^iNinLi; 
djiy, hIh' had nothing' t,o cat Itiit corn nicMl, and I d;irc 
say HJic li;is n't tasted niinc<i pic for months." 

"l>ul, mother, why cinTt I just cai-ry it round then; 
to-day y I don't know where she livi's, hut I believe 
it is in one of those litth^ lonesome streets i-uiniin^' out 
of IJraclcett. Any vv.'iy, I can lind it." 

"Hut I don't w.ant Miiyhody to know it; I <lon't 
want cvt^n her to know where; it (muiics from," said tlui 
mother, who iie.v(U" a,dd<'d lier name to |iul)Iic, sul»sc,ri]»- 
tions, and h.'id .a fimcy for doiuL;' her small j^ood deeds 
Hccrctly. ^' If I wliould send you over there; with a pie, 
it would 1)0 all u|» and down tlio Hti'cct heforc to- 
morrow." 

'2i;{ 



214 THE TlllANGULAIl SOCIETY. 

" Wliat, tlie i)io?" asked liob, vvonderingly. 

" And somebody would say that a mince ])ic was 
not just tlie thing to give a woman wlio does n't have 
bread enougli. And somebody else would remark that 
before giving mince ])ies to troublesome old women, 
I 'd l)etter buy myself a new dress, or my little boy a 
new jacket," said she, looking at a nice darn on his 
sleeve, where he had torn it on a nail in the fence. 
" And some one else would express the opinion that 
as long !xs my daugliter goes out to her work in all 
sorts of weather, it does n't look well for me to give 
away mince pies. And some other ])erson would say 
that I was trying to l)lay Lady Bountiful, by way of 
rebuke to my neighbors. And another ])erson would 
say that probably poor old Mrs. Throckmorton's hope- 
less claim against the city had been allowed, and I 
was trying to make interest with her. No, my son, 
you and I will go together to-night to her liouse, as 
late as Ave dare go out, and hurry ;iway before she 
recogni/A's us." 

It is "sweet and proper" to invent a harndess 
])l;in for somebody's pleasure, but the two cous])irators 
found that it was not easy to carry out even a harm- 
less pie. Brunette scented a ])lot as soon as she 
entered the house that evening, .and asked so many 
leading questions, that her mother was obliged to tell 
her that Bob and herself were going on a little errand, 
a statement so unusual that the size and prominence 
of Brunette's eyes were noticeably ii\creased tlu'rel)y, 
and she took on an injured air, as though defrauded 



THE MINCE TIE. 215 

of her inarKui.'iblo rights. Then callers came in i\n) 
cven'mi^, and stayed later than usual. Then every 
basket in tlie house was either too lar!j:;e or too small 
to carry the pie in, and it was iiiially wrai)i)ed in a 
napkin, and again in a new towel, and again in a 
newspaper, in a vain attomjjt to make it into a square 
])areel. 

"IIow awfully round it looks!" said the mother, 
as she and Bob held conclave in the kitchen. " [ 
should know that for a mince pie, if I should see it a 
mile away. IJut it 's just as well," she sighed, putting 
on a dark wra[) that covered her from head to foot, 
"it 's precisely as well, for if T should succeed in dis- 
guising it, it would no doubt lind miraculous voice, .as 
Balaam's doidvcy did, and proclaim itself aloud to 
everybody we meet." 

" Let 's wait till the next neighbors have gone to 
bed," said Bob. " Tiiey never hear our door shut with- 
out running to look through the blinds, and what 
would they say to see us going out so late ? " 

The mother groaned. "My pimishment is begun," 
said she. " Do look and see if their light is out ; they 
generally go to bed with the hens. What kee])s them 
np so late?" Finally, she could wait no longer, and 
th(>y started, closing the street-door noiselessly. JJut 
the vigilant neighbor heard their steps in the stillness, 
and immediately appeared between her curtain and 
the sash, and watched the suspected parties out of 
sight. 
, "There!" said the mother, " we have forgotten the 



21 G THE TJilAlMGULAll SOCIETY. 

latcli-kcy, and I don't want to rlnu; tlio boll wIkmi \vc 
conu' hack; it will raise llio wliolc .slroct." 

" \'()ii walk aloiii;- slowly,"''' said Hoh, "and I Ml run 
l)acdi and <;c't it."" 

So Iho niotlii'i- Irii'd to walk slowly, bnt she dar(>d 
not u,o far from tlu> |»la(H^ where IJoh left her, l)i'eaus(> 
lu>r way led round a near corner, and lloh would losi> 
her if she kept on her roiilc. l*reseullv a man, really 
or pretendedly half-drunk, slouched neat- hei' and 
iiKjuii-ed Ihi^ time of nii;ht. Slu' hurried round the 
corner, and, concealed by the increased darkness, 
tlu>re beiuLj no LCasdanip tu>ar, sto«)d wati'hinu^ for l)ob"'s 
return. 1 'resently she |»ercei\'ed on the othei' corner, 
the dim, ri^id lii^ure of a policeman, who was evi- 
dently watchiiiLj her movements. IMore liai-ilied by 
hiiu than by llu' other, she tuiaied and hurried toward 
the distant, patter of Hob's retiirninjif feet, met. him, 
and the two ]. resently pursued their way. It had 
i;'ro\\ n excry monu'nt. darki-r and cloudier, and they 
found it nearly impossihle to ri'ad the st ri'et-sii;iis at 
till' corners. 

" 1 don't know this nei^hboi-hood at all,"''' said the 
tired nntther. '•'ll is on(> of thesi> short stri'cts, bnt 
llu>y are all alike dark and ujruesome. I think I should 
know the house, from her description." Up one 
street and down the next, they vrent, lindiiiijj no house 
which suit I'd the mother''s idea of Mrs. Throckmor- 
ton's. "^Now I wish that, ollicious jtoliciunan wonid 
appear,"" said she, "and we could iuipiirc."" 

'I'he <;as-lights in these unfrcijuented stri'cts wero 



THE MINCE PFE. 217 

few niid dim. While tlic w:iii(l(M'erH woro j)coriii<; 
over <jj:itc8 unci trying to road uiitiiju.'ited cloor-plutos, 
it began to rain. "And I've neitlicr rubbers nor 
waterproof, nor umbrella," murmured the wearied 
M'oman, "and you 'II spoil your nico lunv boots, Uob; 
it's too, too bad! I dcnrlare," said she, suddttnly, 
'• I 'm going to take the elephant by the tusks and 
iiKpiirc!" and she rang at a door which was Ibish 
with the sidewalk, a (b)or over which tliret> ]>Mnen 
Hhowed a glimmer of turned-down gas. A man in liis 
Hhirl-sl('ev(>s answered, alter some rustling delay, 

" Can you tell mc if Mrs. Throckmorton lives near 
licre?" asked the mother, bravely. 

" ])on't know any such person,"' was the gruff reply, 
and the door came to with unnecessary force. 

Presently, as they plodded silently through the rain, 
the mother saw a liouse that she said might be the 
place. A faint light shoiu^ from a side window, of so 
dreary and loiu'somc a. character, that instead of cIuhm- 
ing th(( dripj)ing darkness outside, it seen)e(l to add a 
new suggestion of discomfort, as proving that sonu; 
human being was still awake, and aware of the gen- 
eral poverty and miserableness, inst(\ad of having for- 
gotten all worries in merciful slumber. Tlier(> was no 
uell-pull at this door, and she knocke<l. No answer. 
Another knock. A shufHing inside, and pres(Mit,ly a 
sound of whispered consultation, while a, gaunt, tall, 
starvcd-looking dog came round the houses and smuITimI, 
with a blood-curdling sound, at the mother's shrinking 



10 



218 TJIK TRIANCULAK WOCMKTY. 

g:iriiu'nts. Aiiotlirr knock, :ui<l then ;i trc'iiil)liii<>: 
voice from within, " Who 's there V" 

"Doom Mrs. Throckmorton live here?" asked the 
mother, in a tone so extremely scU'-possessed tliat it 
startk'd even lierself, 

"It's a Avomnn ! " said a h)iid wliisper, \vhi(th 
pounded as astonished and horrilicd as th()iiii,h it had 
said, " It 's a hipitopotanius ! " 

"No, sht' (h)iri,, slie livi'S (h)\vn the street, up a little 
ways, a house or two to the ri^Iit after you turn to 
the k'ft with a porch to it ! " was the not very per- 
si)i('iious reply. 

The only clear idea wliicli the seekers obtained from 
tliis direction, -was that the liouse tlu-y sought had "a 
|)()rch ti> it," and so they walked alon^' the sloppy 
bricks with an eye sinsjjle to porches, l)y this time 
most houses, porched and otherwise, were (juite black 
as to thi'ir windows ; and liob at last stood still, and 
said, "JMother, let's give it up. AV^e are both wet 
through ; yonr dress is (h'aggled, and my boots are 
s<»aked as well as yours. Wc have tried hard enough, 
let 's give it up!" 

" JJob," said his mother, wiping lier rain-wet face 
with a soppy pocketdiandkerchief, "I've heai-d of a 
tropical city tliat is ])aved with good intentions. I 
suppose, — I /lo/H', it means those go«d intentions which 
nobody ever tries to make fruitful ; tl>e g(K)d inten- 
tions of ]>iH)ple who content themselves with saying, 
'Be ye warmed,' and 'lit' ye clothed,' to poor unhappy 



TIIIO IMINCIC V\K. 



219 



Jiiul ii('('(ly wrclclics, williniir iii;iJ<iiiu;' llic Ic.'ist, cITdrt, 
to li(l|» or (^)iiirorl them. Now wo luivn really tri(!(l 
to do soinetJiiiii^ more tli.'ui H!iy to MrH. 'IMirocknioi'toii, 
' !5e led willi mliic(! pic,' but yet we liave l"a,il('(| lo do 
licf any n'ood. I^'<»r no matter liow Hinall llici^dftis, 
]>ol»,'" ("I am HiiHi it's a l)i^' (Mioii<fli pic," said IJoh, 
])aretitli(^ti(%ally,) " tlie knowledi^e tliat somebody really 
careH eiioiiL;'li Tor tlie forlorn old soni to tal<(! this little 
])ains lor her, would regally do her t^ood. Let us Iry 
<)Ti('(! or twice more before we acl<nowIed^'(! defeat. 
\Ve 're about as wet as wc; c-a,n b<', and we nii^ht as 
well wade a, little lonL;<'r, as the; sont^' says. Now 
liere 's a, tinnble-down tenement with what was onec a 
j.orc.h. I>et 's :i,tt,empt, this." 

She knocked, and pres(!id,ly a v<»ic(; demanded, 
" Who 's there V" 

" I)()<'S Mrs. 'I'hi'ockmorton livc! hereV" asked Hob, 
in his manliest, voice. 

"No — yes — t.lnit is — who's there!?" said tho 
insider. " Yes, she lives here. What do you want? 
Who is it?" 

"'JMiat's n(!ver her voice," whispeired tlm mother. 
" Now I reine(nl)(!r, sin; told me that sIk^ h;i,d let, part 
of her house t,o sonn' troid»lesome people who woidd 
not pay their rent; and she said that whemiver they 
knew she h:id any provisions, they wen! suns to bo 
out, of food tliems(!lves, and so slit; nev<^i" dares havo 
anythinif sent Iiouk; when she is away. I must bo 
nur(! she is hen;." 

" Who is it?" again demanded tli(; inHi<le spisaker. 



220 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Just lit this instant, an enormous white cat, that 
had been sitting on the porch ixnder some ragged 
vines, unseen by the two pilgrims, suddenly sprang 
between them, and hastily scuttled away into the Avet 
bushes beside the honse, startling Bob, who jumped 
as thougli electrified, and ejaculated, " Christo])her 
Columbus ! " 

" Who did you say ? " asked the party inside, in an 
astonislied tone. 

" Only some friends," replied the mother, sweetly. 
" AVill you tell Mrs. Throckmorton that a lady wants 
to see her?" 

Hereupon a suppressed, but perfectly audible dia- 
logue ensned between two very candid persons within. 

" I don't believe it 's a lady," said one, " they did n't 
say so, tlie first time. Would you open the door ? " 

" No," replied the other, " it 's nobody for any good, 
this time o' night." 

" 1 like to get at peoj^le's real opinions," whispered 
the mother. Then she asked again, "Will you call 
]Mrs. Throckmorton to the door '? Tell her a friend 
is waiting, a friend who has brought her something." 

After a pause the reply came. " She is n't at home, 
slie 's gone to meeting," 

" To meeting at eleven o'clock ! " muttered Bob. 

" But if you 've got anything for her, you can pnt 
it on the step," continued the invisible. " The door 
has got itself fastened so I can't open it." 

"How late does she stay at meeting?" asked the 
mother, who had no idea of leaving her pie on the 



TIIK MINCK TIE. 221 

s1,(']), citlu'i* for i\\v. cut, or 11k! iiiciKliicioiis |i.'ii-ty 
witliin. 

" O, kUo often Kt.'iyn nil iiiL;lit," was tlut rcs|i(Hiso. 
" lliit if you li:ive anything i'or lior, just leave it there, 
and I 'II take earo of it." 

"'Fhat settk's it," said the mother. "We can't 
wait here all nij^lit ; we can't get tin* pie to her l»y 
leaving it on tiie ste]). We (%an't do anything hut 
sneak home to IJrunette, and tell her that after all our 
]»lotting, \vc have failed miserahly in trying to do the 
foilorn old creatiin^ a little wretched two-cent kind- 
ness, and ha\e got tired out, and discouragcsd, and 
draggled for our pains!" 

"And Unmet f(! will laugh us all to shoe-strings," 
said I>ol), mournfully, "and say it 's a righteous judg- 
ment upon us for not telling her where we were; going. 
And we shall have to eat that travell(Ml pie, ourselves, 
after all ! " 

"T wonder," said the mother, half to herself, (tast- 
ing an uneasy glance behind her as she hiirricHl along, 
her wet skirts swishing about her feet, " 1 wonder if 
policemen keep as sharp a lookout on really bad and 
mischievous jjersons, as they do on harml(!ss and wc^ll- 
meaning souls who hapi)en a<^;identally to \h\ out 
later than usual? If tlK^y do, 1 shouldn't suppose 
the gr(fatest villains in the world would ever find an 
o|iportunity to do any mischief,'' continu(!(l she, still 
hearing the thud, thud, thud, of the guardian's boots 
as lie kept along at a little distance behind. " I 
remember, when we lived further down town, I went 



rni'ly <iiii' ('\('iiiii!;- (-(> Hcc ;i IVu'IhI oii I );mr(ti'(li nI nict. 
Tlic time sli|i|>(Ml mw.'iv, :iii(I Itd'on^ I knew, il, wilH 
«'l('\('ii ii'cloclv. Sill' tliil iiol iiivilii iiK* (i) Ht.'iy nil 
nielli.; (lnwiuK liiid (•cnscd niiiiiiiii^'; I must \v;ilk (ho 
\vli(il(« way mIoiic. And cscry policcinaii I iiicl, eyed 
iiic willi siicli iiilcrcsl, and siis|tici(iii tli.il, I was r<'ally 
Icnilicd, and l»«\>;an lo Iccl an llioiii;!* I wrrt* really i\ 
tliicl' (ir a. burglar, and lor the last I'cnv l»Ii)cks, I 
actnally ran every sle|». lOasy, lloh, willi llie laleli- 
Iryr ' 

llrnnelle, \vln» liad heen aslee|» on the lonni^e, aroso 
as they entered the Hittini' room, and snrxi'ved their 
ihi|i|»ini>' {jjarinenis with sicrn disa|)|iro\ al. 

'' It sli'ikeH nie," said she, ;is her mother hninhly 
<!e|)osiled liei- |>;icka;;(^ on lh(< tahle, " il- strikes mo 
that yon are a. eon|>le of minei* |>ions frauds." 

" I \'o heard of easting- one's bread on the wat(>rs 
and seeiny; it return, after many days," said l>ob, lu^- 
i^iii!^ at his sodd(Mi boots, "but we \'o got onr pio 
bank l\w sam(« ni^ht." 

*' I am half in«dined to Ihink," said the mother, next 
nun-ninv; ali the In'eakfasI table, with a look as lhon<;h 
her opinion had been arriviMl at throuL;h ponderinij; 
w hen sIh< shonid havo been slee|>in';', '■'• I am almost 
eonvineed th;it. the reason win' lhen> are not- moi'o 
good deedn done, lies not in the hard heartcdness of 
|»eo|»K\, not in their leal |»ositive wi<'kedness, bnt in 
tlieir in<h)h'iUM<. The doinii^ of a in)od deed, even ii 
small oin>, is !;'enerally hed;';ed abont with so many 
dillienllies, that the nnre;.!enerali' heart shrinks from 



Til 10 TVlINCIi; I'llO. 



22:^ 



tiiliiii; lilt' lidiililc l(> ovcn'omc llinii. |)i(l I ever (.cll 
yoii liow IkiiiI :i woiiiuii Irit'iKl of iiiiiK^ liit'd 1,0 do a 

kiiKliicsH, ill Hccrcl., lo ;i | r woiiimii living in Ji, iiiiHcr- 

:il)l(' Hlicll-cr oil one of lln' \>:\rk H(-rc<tl,H V " 

"Did hIki <;() out. ill u dri/,/,liiin' r.'iiii to cjirry \n'r 
IK'iisioiicr Hoiiit'tliiii;^; U> ulvc licr dyHpcpHiii, V" !iHkt!<l 
I IniiH'l t(^ 

"() 110, /ir |il:iii comI, mom iJiiiii l,li:i(,," H:iid Ilir 
uiifiidlcd inoliici. " Sii<( kiK'W Mi;i,l. l,li(i poor \voiii;iii 
li;id ;i \\:\Vi\ hI rii";v';l(' 1<» sii|)|iorl, licrHcIf, lice lilllc child, 
;iiid Ik'I' iiiol licr ; lliiil tlii'y Were [loorly lioiiHcd, |»oorly 
«'l;i(|, :iiid iiisiiOiciciil ly wnrmcd. So she |»l;iiiiii'd lo 
kcikI IIk'III Nccrcllv ;i, l,oii of coaJ. ()!' (•(iiirsc Uiin 
iii;id<' il. in'ccHMiiry lo know IImi poor \voin;iii'H <'\ii,c(, 
JiddrcHH. or c.oiirHc, :iL(:un, if sIk^ :iHkc(I lln^ woniMii 
licrNcli', il, would lt(>l,r;iy her inirposc. So ulic Hpml, 
Ii;ilt' M. (kiy linntiii'^' lJiron;di llm niiscr;il»lc n(i";hl»or- 
liood (.0 lind I he pl;ic(>. II:i,vini!; i'oiiiid it, hIk^ went to 
II, coMJ-dfMlrr, ordcifd tlir <",o:il, ;ind interviewed the 
driver who w:is to deliver it,, ^^iviii;^ him e;irel"iil 
iiiHtriiet ioiiH. She w;is t,o e;ill in .■I'f.'iin :il, <'veiiiii;j;, j^'et, 
hiH report, imd p;iy the hill, ;ih Hhe w;i,s <|eterminei| l,o 
!)(' sure t li;it, I he eo.il re;ieln'd th(^ ri';ht, party. So .'it, 
nii;lit, she wt'iit, l,o the <'();i,|-y;i,rd ;ii^:iin. 

"' And troth I did iTl, deliver ihv. cojil ye ordh(M'e(|,' 
s.iid the red-cheeked driver, 'for fiiitii, whin I fi,'o(, 
Ihere, there w:iM nowhere t,o dump il, ;il, :ill, .'it, ;ill, 
HMvin' th(^ kitchen Ihire, and Hure ther() vvuH n't romii 
i'oreniiiHt the l>e<| and the oiild t:i.hle. What eaii tlio 



224 THE TEIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

likes o' them do with a ton o' coal ? They get it at 
the grocery by the bucket-ful, the craythurs ! ' 

" So my friend had to pay the driver for his wasted 
time, satisfy the coal-dealer for his disappointment, 
and pocket her own as well as she could, having, after 
all her trouble, failed utterly to do any good." 



XXI. 

THE TRAMP. 

"Mother," said Brunette, one sunny May morn- 
ing, as she rose from the breakfast-table, " there 's a 
tramp coming up the walk. SupjDose we engage lum 
to make the garden ? " 

" No objection in the world," rejoined her mother, 
placidly drinking tlie last of her coffee. "I have 
already engaged thirteen of those gentry to make the 
garden. It 's the surest way to get rid of them. Not 
one of the thirteen will ever appear here again until 
Christmas. Engage him, by all means. Brunette, 
but don't give him a breakfast to bind the bargain." 

" The flower-beds ought to be made," put in Bob, 
anxiously. " Here 's my list of seeds and plants all 
made out, and — " 

" Where 's Johnny Dunn ? " suddenly exchumed 
his sister, recollecting herself, " that good-looking fel- 
low with the Irish-blue eyes, who came here a month 
ago, and got his breakfast on a promise to come and 
work in the garden 'just as soon as the ground is fit 
to work, Miss ' ? " And Brunette suddenly burst into 
singing, to the air of "County Guy" — "That April 
day has fled away, the hours to weeks have run, the 
skies are clear, the birds are here, but where is Johnny 
10* 225 



226 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Dunn? The neighbors round, to till their ground, 
have long ago begun, 't is time to hoe, transplant and 
sow, but where is Johnny Dunn ? 'T is time to make, 
with spade and rake, the flower-beds, every one, for 
everything proclaims the spring, 0, v^here is Johnny 
Dunn ? " 

" O J^Ywnette ! " exclaimed Bob, out of all patience, 
" do stop ! I believe you 'd fiddle if Rome was 
burning ! Here 's my list — " 

" I doubt if anything short of the conflagration of 
the Eternal City will ever enable me to fiddle," 
returned his sister, " and as for your list, is it like that 
you sent to a florist when we lived down south, 
wherein you ordered blue tulips, and Mr. Vick sent 
you his own photograjDh, as the nearest thing he could 
muster to anything so rare and unique ? " 

Bob looked foolish, and she mercilessly continued : 

" And what about the manual phlox, and the arrow- 
fat peas, and the brainial popjDies, and the high-bred 
roses, and the purple masters with yellow middles, 
and — " 

"But that was before I could read the catalogue 
for myself," said poor Bob, half-crying, " and I heard 
you say you meant to get some asters, and some 
annual phlox, and some marrow-fat peas, and I 
thought you said ' brainial,' instead of perennial, 
and — " 

" And I 'm sure the roses are high-bred as well as 
hybrid," put in the mother. " Bob's mistake was not 
uncomplimentary to the florist." 



THE TRAMP. 227 

"I know wh.'it Brunette will say next," said Bob. 
" She will ask me about the cock zinnias that I wanted 
you to send for; but how was I to know tliat ' coc- 
(tinnoa' was only another word for scarlet? I thought 
it meant a lar^x! kind of zinnias. I 'm sure there 's 
cockscomb, and henbane, and chick-weed, and — she 
Avas to blame, lierself, for setting down tlie names just 
as I said 'em, when she knew better. She is always 
making fun' of me. A boy don't have any kind of a 
chance in this family," he grumbled, focusing the sun- 
shine on the back of Brunette's hand with' his glass. 
She S])rang up, exclaiming, " Why, don't you know 
that burns like a live coal? I actually believe you 
have raised a blister on my hand ! " 

"lias it burned you?" asked Bob, innocently. 
"Pc^rhaps that 's why it 's called a magnifire." 

Just then the mother returned from a brief trij) to 
the door. 

" It 's the very tramp who excited my sympathies 
so in the winter," she said, "I was quite pleased 
with his appearance, then. He looked like a mechanic, 
and did not betray any signs of whiskey ; he had a 
most candid address, and an innocent and sorrowful 
j)uir of eyes. lie spoke in a civil way, using nmch 
better language tlian is usual with tramps — said he 
served in the late war, and he had evidently been in 
the South. He ]>ad just lost his wife and baby in 
Nova Scotia, and, finding the j>lace there so lonesome, 
had concluded to go to Pennsylvania, where he heard 
he could get work ; he had a twin-brother there, who 



228 'rilK 'IMMANiMlLAIt HOCl ICI'V. 

\\iul {^((t u |il;uH« for him. I j^uvi' liiiii a coiiiloitMl)!*) 
broalcfuNt,, wliicli lu' nln lliiiiikriilly, philoHopIiizlnjjf 
nuiHinvliihi (Ml the' clTcclH ol' Hliivi^'y on llic Soiitli, {\\o 
dh'U'Vvnri) Itctwucii Nvw Kii<;liiii(l luid 'l\'micsst'i' as 
)>I;ui('H of ri'sidciicc, aiid luHlly «liH('iissiiii^ (lie <|ii('st,i()ii 
of H|itH'ial |»i(>vi(l('iicfs, Willi coiisidcralih' t'l()(|iu'iici'." 

" W'liero did lio do nil tliiM |tri'a(liiii<;l' " asked 
Ilniiu'tlc. " I lio|i(' yon did n't, let, (lu^ {"rlJow into (ho 
hoiiscV ^^'h('Il I iiiid one ol' (hem al (hcdooi-, I jiisL 
HiniU) at hiiii with all my ini^lit, and way, ' No, lliaidv 
you,' wilii ('rriisivt* politi'McHS, and as u vnlv, Lhcy aro 
HO astonishf<l, that, lhcy tnni and i;(> away, ' wilhonfc 
loiowinL;' w ha(, linfl tln'm,' as I'.ol) says, lint, I shoidd 
ncNcf let. ono into tho house. \lv would |»rol»altly 
piclci- cnLt'rinjjf nnaunonnci'd at, tluwcllar window." 

" Well, I ^ave thatont* his ^I•(^ak fast in the kitchen," 
atlmiLt,(Ml tin' nioLher. " I lis n^narks \\ ere ([uit.e imII- 
lyini;, :ind he went away, alt.er thaidcin<;- un\ civilly, 
with (he sanu^ mouinl'ul «'X|>fession in his eyes, 
speakinjj; u lile-lonLi;' sorrow, and an air of int«'nrity 
and res|»ee(,al)le misl\)rtune euvtdopinjjj ITnu liki^ a 
<:,a linen (,." 

"'IMial was hecauso he made* a hahit of it," snjj;- 
p'slcd r>ruiietti', <i;riinly. 

" \V«'II, Im ai'l.nally made me feel as though I had 
sometimes heeii unjust, to t,ram|»s, and perhaps sent, 
away more than oim an^i'l unawart*. lint, alas ! just, 
now, 1 iu«M, ati the door thai same mournrul pair of 
(>yt's. This time tlu'ir «)wner eaiiie t'roin I'hiladelphia, 
when' lu' had jusL lost, his wile and hahy ; he had 



Til 10 'I'lJAMI'. 



U'JO 



jj;'iv('ii tip liiM Iiuiiit* (lien* Im'cimimc of ils Ioik'Shiiicmcss, 
1111(1 wJis l.iwiii.H' l.(» /j;t^l. to Ntivii StMtlin, u ln-rr he liml n 
l\\\i\ \>vt>\,\\i'\\ wlio IiikI |)I'()(Mii'<*(I a wit ii.iliiin fui- liim ! '" 

*''rin'r(' 'h no (I'licr HnyiiiM; lli;iii lliai n liiir iici'ils !i 
jj;(>(»(l iiiciiioiy," «il)Sfi"\'('(I I Iniiu'tir. 

"N'cM, il Miiirly |i|-(i\('(l IfiKi licni. IM y inoiii'iil'iil 
cycil ••:illti- li.'iil .•i|i|(:ir('iil ly ror^'ollcti iJic lioiisf lie 
cillicr Ii.'kI .1- vi'i'v nliurl, iiiciiioi'y, or' Hti|i|io,Mt'(l I liinl. 
I lool^cd liiiii I'lill ill llic r,'i('(\ II, w.'iM ('l(';ii'l\ iiii|ioKsi 
Itic, ('\i'ii l(ir;i, man willi ;i ciiiKliil ('\|ii('MHion iiinl a, 
nioiiiiil'iil |iair of cnth, Id luive aclii(i\t'i| ami diH- 
|Mt,sr(l of ( wo wivi'N mill l.w'o lialiicH ill llio H|tji(i(^ of 
tlirci' iiioiilliH, to Hay iiol.Iiiii!^ of two Iwiii-lirol Ihth, 
one in rcinisy l\ ania ami one in Nova. Si'<ttja-. I rtliiil, 
(lie i|o(ir witlioiil. u woni, and Im w<'nl, nwny, willi iiti 
injiiicd and iniioccnl air, mid tlx* Maim^ look of lioiichd 
misfoi'lmic and iiiiiiii|i(>U('lia.lil<f i't-H|i(M-lal)iliry ('lin,";iti;; 
l<) liim like a, ;';annfn(,." 

"\'oii arc alwayK ^'cl.tiiif^ iiii|M)H('<| ti|>oti Mii-oii;!;li 
your HoflJirarlcilncHH," Hliid IJniiicM.c. "Thai fellow 
irt KoiiH'w hi'ir in (111- !i('i;diltorliood now, looLin;'; hoiiio 
j^'tdlililf house iiiolJicr ill the liu-e wiUi (,lios(^ nioiirnfiil 
<lark cycH, hurl in;),' iier I'eeliiieH willi miol.her eoiiHlriiel,- 
iv(^ wif<' and hahy, which he has IomI, laiely Hoiiicwhcro 
('lH(i, and nourishing' iJio (vviii Itrot.lier n(, licr hy way of 
clinchiiiif his arj^iiiimiil, in favor of her idvinjj;' him ii, 
Hiihslaiil iai lii'cakfasl. AikI wlial, i;( more, he will 
)(i'»>l)ul)ly f^el. il., loo. Mow Hlranji^c il. is, l.hal. jiisl, as 
loiljf UH one holds l.ij;'hl. l,o Helf-res|M'el., |irim'i|ih', and 
iii(lc|)(!U(k)n('-e, this world j^ocH so hard wiUi one; hiil, 



230 THE TIM ANGULAR SOCIETY. 

just as s()(ni as one lets 'j^o all those ])r('('i(mr^ tliinpjs, 
one may be fed and clothed for nothiiin', and Iia\e no 
end of leisure aud freedom ! I wonder how many 
limes that fellow lias lost his wife and l)al)y, lel't tho 
scene of his lost happiness witli a broken heart, aud 
liastened to the solace of fratt'rnal assistance and sym- 
])athy, Since last February V" 

"Tramiis do worse things than that,'" said Dob. 
" I^ast week a tramp killed a woman on J>i-ackett 
street, after she had just given him some breakfast, 
too." 

"Killed a woman! why was n't it in the pa])er8?" 
queried the Jiorrilied mother. " T have n't heard of 
any such tragedy. Wlio told youV" 

"Anyway, he broke lier spine," said nnterrilied 
Hob, "and 1 luiard Mrs. lirown tt'lliiig one of the 
neighbors about it." 

" ]Mit did ]\[rs IJrown really say that a tramp had 
broken anybody's s])ineV" 

"I '11 tell you just as near as T can, word after 
word," said l>ob, a little red in the face. "Mrs. 
]>rown said that a friend of hers, on Brackett street, 
engaged a ill-looking tramj) to dig her ])ansy bed. 
She gave him his breakfast, and he was to work two 
full hours. Mrs. lirown said he made the woman a 
solemn i)romise ; and then the minute she turned her 
back, lie broke it, so there now ! " 



XXII. 

THE STXTII TRIANGULAR. 

"Stkaking of mice," Huid Bruiuitlo, at the next 
Tri:uiL;iil:ir, " Kineo our failure! witli the trap, tlioy liavo 
been niiii)iii<4' in my lic-id so — " 

" Perhaps we did n't 8et the trapintlic riglit jilaee," 
said Bob, rather softly, with an extremely wise smihi. 

" Don't be severe, Bob," she replied, " and you may 
read first, this time. I suppose you have; looked up 
your selections V " 

"Yes, but what iibout the mice, lirstV" 

"Oh, well, the mice will come later," said Brunette. 

" Doubtless," replied liob. "And now! am <jjoinf^ 
to read a riddle, and see if you am guess it. It took 
me an hour to study it out, and I should n't have 
thought of it at all, if I had n't taken a turn in the 
flower-garden." 

"Two beds of annu:ils and a sweet-pea trellis made 
out of the wires of an old hoop-skirt that has out- 
lived its usefulness," commented ijrunette, " and now 
for the riddle." 

" J think," said Bob, " it sounds larger to call it 

'A RKBUS.'" 
My first soars i^^ladiy fi'om the earth, 

On (lawning's dcswy wings, 
Viewing the morning's l)camy birth. 
The star's last glimmeriugs. 
281 



232 THE TRIANOULAPv SOCIETY. 

One of the few who sing for joy, 

And are not taught by pain, 
My first permits no sad alloy, 

To mingle Avith his strain. 

A horseman dashes o'er the plain, 

With mad and headlong speed; — 
"With nostrils spread, and flying mane, 

Sweeps on the noble steed; 
As fiies the tempest in its might, 

As meteors cleave the sky; — 
My second prompts his foaming flight, 

And fires his flashing eye. 

My whole lay trembling on my breast, 

When summer's morn was bright, 
Eut ere the sunset charmed the west. 

The blue eyes lost their light. 
I yielded it with fond regx*et, 

Ere 1 had loved it long — 
But ah, its spirit lingers yet, 

In poet's sweetest song! 

"I never shouUl liave guessed it if you liad n't 
spoken of the flower-garden," said Jiruuctte, " but tlie 
first thing T thought of was that groat clump of blue 
larksj)iir." 

"Of course that 's it," said Bob. "I ought not to 
have reminded you of the garden. But to return to 
our mice." Whereupon Brunette read as follows : 

HAUNTED HOUSES. 
All houses wherein rats and mice abide 

Are haunted houses. Through the open doors 
The cunning thieves upon their errands glide, 

Making a hasty scratching on the floors. 



THE SIXTH TUIANfJlIIiAU. 283 

Wc inocl llunu in the cluimhin-, on (lie s(;iii', 
Alonjf the passiis^es they eoine iiinl j^o; 

Their twiukliiitj: eyes are peeriun- (everywhere, 
As hurriedly they seamper to iiiid fi-o. 

The house has far moi'e iiunalcs (iiaii I lie hosts 

Invited; ecillai', paiili'y, kKchcii, hall, 
Are tliron^-ed with uihblers, which the scent of roasts 

Has temi)ted I'l-oni their sti-ongholds in the wall. 

Tlie stranjj;er at \ny liresidc^ "liiy not see 

The forms I s(H) — and if sli-ani^-e sounds he hear, 

Ascribes them to the wind — l)ut unto mc; 
The real cause is visible and clc^ar. 

Among the cupboard's spoons and cruet-stands, 
They keep the revels which (he housewile hates — 

From holes unnoticed swarm in thievish liands, 
And hold liigh jinks with teacups, howls and plates. 

The garret's dusty, dim cirtuunferenec 
Is where they most do congregati! — for there 

Rubhish in piles, and cobw(!bs dark and dense 
Shut out intruders and the daylight's glare. 

Their little lives are k(!i)t in e({uipoise 

By opposite incentives and desires — • 
The struggle of the daring that destroys, 

And the instinctive cowardice that fears. 

The jiei'turbations, the perpetual jar 

Of scampering rodents, bent on rol)hery, 

Come from the attic, where by moon and star, 
They, undiscovered, plan it secretly ; 



231 



Tiiio 'ri;iAN(JiTi,Ai: socncrv 



And MS tlic moon, from sonui dark, caviM-iioiis cloud, 
I'^liii'^s down lo us :i lloaliii'^ ))ii<l';i" of li^lil. 

Across wliosc (rcniMiii;;' licains om- lancics crowd, 
Inio llic van'ur uncci'lainly and ninlit — 

So, from t!i(^ allic slory, tlii'rci di'stuMi Is 
A nielli t>r stairs, conncclini;- it willi (his. 

And raciiin' n|) and down, my lon';-(ailcd IVicnds 
AriVii-lil the ni''iil witli antics nundici-U'ss. 



"'I'hat 's very wcdl i'nv tlic n\ic(>," said liol). "I'cr- 
]ia|>s if you leave i(. in tlic |iantry, tlicy will acccpl it 
as a notice to (|uit. l>ut- it, sceniH to nio I have seen it 
Noincwlu'rc Ixd'orc." 

"l>runcttc," said the iiiother, jMittin^ on licr cye- 
L!,'lasscs in order to add severity to liie !j^a/.e \\ hich she 
bent- on lier dan^htt'r, " IJrunelte, 1 'ni afraid that \s a 
]»ar(»dv ; :iiid piirodies are forhiddiMi by the by laws of 
our Society. The sai^rilei^t^ of parodyini;' llu^ verse of 
a <;reat. and s^ood poet, out^lit to be considered an 
indictabh' olTenee." 

" I thonnht the j^lory of our Society was tlial it: liad 
no constitution and bydaws," said IJrunettc. 

" 1 tiiink it- has a pretty <;ood constitution, or it. 
conhl iTt lia\<' enduri'd " — the mother checked her- 
self, with a little jjjulp — '• T nu>an that, every stdf- 
respectiuL!,' litcrai'y society has, or oui;ht to ha\i', an 
nnw rit ten law ai;ainst parodies. In the lirst. place, a 
parody i;enerally maki'S liu;lit of soniethini;- (hat is 
AviiK'ly known, and held procioius ami sacred by many 



Tiiio SIXTH 'ruiAN(aii-Aii. 2:55 

])('rs()iis. In the next pl.'icc, if il, is ;uiy \v:iy well 
(lone, il- .'it oiK^c UHS()ci:ii('H itHcIf wit.li tlic oriniiiiil, ;iii(l 
(i.Mii iK'Ncr llicrciiricr !»•• dissociated tVoiii il. I liavo 
licard KoiiK' |>aro(lics on old hymns — ( parodios niado 
years aL;,d, in your i;rea(-i^randi'a(,hei-\s t,ini(% when 
]u'o|)h' were so much helier, and ni(ire respecll'nl (<> 
Ha(!r('d thinL'S Ihan lliey are now) — whicli I lind il, 
im|)ossihl(! to l"ori;cl, and which afe snrc lo come into 
my head if I liear one of I he originals read in clinrch, 
and make it very hard for me to |>reserve (h'Cdrnm." 

"And Itecanse some irreverent |>ersons are wicked 
enough to want to laninh in meetinu,-, there must he no 
more cukes and aleV"' (|uerie(i nnconvinccd llriniette. 

*' necause," said the mother, la nj^hin.i;', hnt slill in 
earnest, "hecajise after I ha\(* broiiLiiit myself into 
a. Siniday frame of mind, helittini;' the lime and |>lace, 
find ain waiting to Ito soothed and refrcshe<I hy th(^ 
music of the (rhoir, I don't want their lirst wor<ks to 
remind me of 

' 'I'he hill of Zioii yields 

A llionsaml striped snakes — ' 

or, as liappened a Snnchiy or two ago, to suggest 
irresistiidy, 

' IJiess Die oxen IJuck ai)d IJrighl, 
And all the. little. sIcM-rs; 
I hope they 'II live to h:ud ships' masts 
'I'hesc iiimdred Ihonsand years.' " 

"'I'hen w<' 'II (V)nsi(h'r that our Society has one l»y- 
law," said loimette. "And now \vv. 'II hear you read. 
No parodies, mind ! " 



230 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

"Hero is something," said the motlier, turning a 
few leaves, " which, altliougli not exactly local, yet 
alludes to a well-known citizen of the State. The 
newspaper from which I took it, says it means 'a 
gallant ex-governor of Maine, who was wounded in 
the Battle of the Wilderness, and lay in hospital many 
weary months.' It was evidently written some time 
ago." 

" So was the Iliad," murmured Brunette. But her 
mother did not hear, as she had begun reading. 

WOUNDED. 
June's loving presence fills these green-arched glooms; 
From broad-leaved branches, drooping cool and low, 
Drop down the purple-veined catalpa-blooms, 
Chasing each other lightly to and fro. 
As dainty as new snow. 

The great ripe roses nodding by the way, 

Drunken and drowsy with their own perfume, 

Heed not that bee and butterfly all day 
Make in their very hearts a banquet-room, 
And rob their royal bloom. 

The chestnut lights her mimic chandeliers, 

The tulip-tree uplifts her goblets high, 
The pine and fir shed balmy incense-tears, 

And the magnolia's thick white petals lie 
Expiring fragrantly. 

The silver poplar's pearl-and-emerald sheen 
Glimmers incessant, shadowing the eaves; 

The willow's wide, fair fountain-fall of green 
Whispers like rain ; a pulse of gladness heaves 
The world of waving leaves. 



THE SIXTH TEIANGTJLAB. 237 

In yonder room that fronts the dusty street, 
Hushed and white-bedded, curtained cool and dim, 

There lies as brave a heart as ever beat. 
Bound down and tortured by a shattered limb — 
Ah! what is June to him? 

To him, poor homesick sufferer, how fair 

Would be this wealth of bloom, this sunny sky. 

These gushing sparrow-songs, this gracious airl 
Yet he, with stronger right to all than I, 
Pines in captivity. 

With lireath of cannon hot upon his brow. 
In glorious strife it had been sweet to die ; 

But no ennobling purpose fires him now; 
His soul is nerved by no proud battle-cry 
To this long agony. 

What was the boldest charge, the bloodiest fight, 

The wildest rally over heaps of slain. 
To this unequal contest, day and night, 

With the fierce legions of disease and pain, 
Repulsed so oft in vain ? 

Heroic was the bravery that inspired 

His heart to daring deeds; but nobler still 

This bravery of strong patience, which, untired, 
Waits calmly, while the tedious months fulfil 
Their work of good or ill. 

Sacred we hold their names, who in the strife 
Of righteous war — our nation's noblest sons — 

Have done their work and given up their life 
Amid the smoke and thunder of the guns. 
Beloved and honored ones! 



238 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

And thou, brave heart, although no trumpet breath 
Proclaims thee martyr, yet thy name shall be 

Hallowed as these; for even more than death 
O hero, hast thou suffered patiently 
For right and liberty! 

" AVhat became of him? Say, did lie die?" asked 
Bob, with dilated eyes, as liis mother finished reading. 

"Die? no indeed," rei)lied IJrunettc ; "didn't she 
tell you, before she began it, that in spite of the 
verses, lie lived to be governor of Maine ? " 

"No, she did n't, slie never said any such thing," 
said Bob, Avith spirit. " And I like the poem very 
well, and I only hope yours will be half as good." 

" Very well," said Brunette, " here is one which I 
either wrote or picked up, some time since. Of course 
you can both readily tell whether it is mine." 

A DEMOLISHED HOMESTEAD. 

We rail at Time for spoiling what Ave prize, 
But mild ami gradual is his strong control; 

His rudest touch but charms and sanctifies, 
His changes bring no shock to sense or soul. 

Seldom by Time arc razed the sacred shrines 
Of local love and neighborhood renown; 

Improvement blasts them with her new designs, 
And Tratfic's grasping talons dig them down. 

Fond, faithful hearts which will not understand 
The change that wouuds and wrongs their constant 
truth. 

Grieve that to-day, with sacrilegious hand. 
Removes the ancieut landmarks of their youth. 



THE SIXTH TRIANGULAR. 239 

By Trade and Greed our idols arc displaced; 

Not one is safe from their destructive clutch; 
liudoly they lay our pleasant places waste, 

J3Iiglitiug all beauty with their fatal touch. 

Where once were murmuring depths of waving leaves, 
A mossy roof, and household love and mirth, 

The cal)le creaks, the dcrric^k groans and ln^aves. 
The pick-axe quarrels with the unwilling earth : 

They ruin and uproot all olden grace. 

All precious memories which our youth has known, 
Old homes, old trees — and give us in their place 

Huge heaps of rectilinear brick and stone. 

Surely the dim and unregarded ghosts 
Of those who used these pleasant shades to range, 

Come up at night out of their misty coasts, 
And wring their spectral hands above the change I 

" I know what tliat means," exclaimed Bob, before 
his mother could si^eak. "It's that old house near 
the First Parisli cliurcli, a pleasant old place, with 
trees about it. But they liave n't pulled it down, 
after all, they 'vc only drawn it back and made a board- 
ing-house of it." 

" So much tlie worse," said the mother. " Desecra- 
tion is worse than destruction, it seems to inc. And 
yet, mournful as it is, the turning of an old Ijomestead 
into a boarding-house hardly commends itself as a 
subject for a poem. But Bob, you are not doing your 
share." 



240 THE TKI ANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Tims rcniiiidetl, Bob read gravely, as follows : 

HER ANSWER. 

" I think I have heard you rightly, 
And this way the matter stands ; 

You aim to become my master, 

As you are of your gold and lands — 

You wish me to fawn and follow. 
And serve you with fettered hands — 

*' To Haunt in your flimsy finery, 
To starve in your hollow state — 

To enter a life of falsehood 
Through a false and lying gate — 

To dwarf my heart for diamonds, 
And peril my soul for plate. 

*' A modest and generous offer, 
Which only a man could make! 

So this is the burden of duties 
You wish me to stoop and take ? 

Nor fear that my strength might falter, 
Nor dread that my heart might break ? 

" Your wife! it were too much honorl 
Pray, what is your wife to be V 

The slave of )'our whim and bounty, 
The pet of your luxury — 

A careful, obsequious servant -;- 
Is the picture at all like me ? 

" I know how you reckoned your chances — 

Your wooing has shown me that — 
' She is poor — I will make her wealthy ' — 

Oh, joy to be wondered at! 
But you are a monstrous camel, 
While poverty 's only a guati 



THE SIXTH TEIANGULAR. 241 

" If women are only insects — 

Poor, insiguilicaut tilings, — 
I am not a cricket, that always 

By the fire-place sits and sings, 
But a chrysalis, unexpanded, 

Impatient for promised wings. 

" There are various minor trifles 
itfot even your gold can gain — 

You cannot imprison the sunlight, 
You cannot com]5el the rain — 

And I am more wilful than either — 
You flatter and sue in vain! 

" Away with your gilded fetters — 
The}' rattle, although they shine — 

The goblet of bliss you offer. 

Smacks strongly of poisoned wine; 

Your ring is too small for my finger, 
Your life is too narrow for mine! " 

Brunette drew a long breath. " Bob's selections 
are a standing marvel to me,"- said she. " Somehow 
ho reminds me of a calf, who leaves the trough of 
milk which is his natural diet, to munch dusty hay 
with the oxen." 

"I like the measure," said Bob, "and I don't care 
if you do comj>are me to a calf." 

"It seems to me," said the mother, " that that must 
have been written by a young person who held a posi- 
tion in a newspaper office, and did n't care to exchange 
it for housework. And after I read this solemn bit of 
verse. Brunette, that I found in an old newspaper, 
11 



242 THE TEI ANGULAR SOCIETY. 

we '11 hear a prose article, if you please, and then it 
will be time to adjourn." 

HE CAME TOO LATE. 
He came too late ! The toast had dried 

Before the fire too long, — 
The cakes were scorched upon the side, 

And everything was wrong. 
She scorned to wait till dark for one 

Who lingered on his way , 
And so she took her tea alone, 

And cleared the things away. 

He came too late ! At once he felt 

The supper hour was o'er; — 
Indifference in her calm smile dwelt — 

She closed the cupboard door! 
The table-cloth was put away, 

Ko dishes could he see; — 
She met him and her words were gay. 

She never spoke of tea! 

He came too late ! the subtle cords 

Of patience were unbound, — 
Not by offence of spoken words, 

But by the slights that wound. 
She knew he could say nothing now 

That could the past repay, — 
She bade him go and milk the cow. 

And coldly turned away! 

He came too late ! The fragrant steam 

Of tea had long since flown. 
The flies had fallen in the cream, 

The bread was cold as stone. 



THE SIXTH TRIANGULAR. 2-13 

And when with word and smile he tried 

Ilis hungry state to prove, 
She nerved lier heart with woman's pride, 

And never deigned to move! 

Brunette had been with difficulty restraining her 
laughter while her mother read, and as soon as the 
lines were finished, slie burst into a merry peal. 

" I thouglit it was droll a little," said the mother, 
*' but it does n't seem so funny as all that." 

" Mother, don't you know that 's a parody ? " said 
exultant Brunette, " and that you 've broken your own 
precious, solitary by-law? Miss Bogart's ghost will 
haunt you for countenancing such a travesty on her 
sentimentalism." 

" Well," said tlio motli(;r, after a pause, " all I can 
clo is to move an amendment of that by-law. Sup- 
jiose we insert tlie words ' consciously and voluntarily' 
somewhere in it ? And now for your prose." 

SOLEMN NEW ENGLAND. 

SOME SMALL ARGUMENTS AGAINST A POPULAR FALLACY. 

The traditional gravity and severity of ^N'ew England 
character has often been remarked, and frequently set 
down in histories and biographies. But if New Eng- 
landcrs are habitually grave, it is certainly not because 
there are laot a great many funny persons among them, 
and a great many droll circumstances continually occur- 
ring within tlieir territory and observation. A careful 
collection of the odd incidents actually set down, with 
all gravity, as facts, in the newsijapcrs of the six eastern 



244 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

States, would be luueh ruuiiicr Ihau any " fuuuy column " 
extant ; and probably the only reason why these things 
are not utilized in this wa}'^ by overworked humorists, is 
simidy that the popular taste clamors for falsehood 
instt'ad of for trulb ; for, of course, all the droll local 
items so seriously recorded in the rui'al papers ai-e true. 

The graAity with Avhich these stories are told, is per- 
haps one element of their funniness. A New Hampshire 
paper soberly announces that a wood-snake was dis- 
lodged from the stomach of a man in Rochester, in that 
State, a few days since. It is supposed to have been 
swallowed twenty-live years ago. The idea that a wood- 
snake, born under a. cold rock in the forest, and dwelling 
all its life in chilly, damp shadows, and luiderwet leaves, 
could li\e iov an hour in the unnatural heat and restraint 
of a human stomach, is past belief. Hut that it could 
not only do this, but actually keep alive years longer than 
it would naturally do in its native wilds, is very funny. 
r>ul of I'oursi' it is true. 

Tbc next funny thing happened in Xew Bedford, and 
had to do with a funeral. It is a fact that some of the 
drollest things in the Avorld happen in connection with 
funerals, and kindred sorrowful occurrences. And when 
at the time, souie nnh:ipi)y person, perhaps a mourner, 
but slill unable to remain blind and deaf to the riilicu- 
lous, hapi)ens to laugh at them, it is counted as. either 
shockingly heartless, or clearly hysterical. At this Xew 
]>eilford funeral, a local paper says, the bearers took one 
carriage, and some acquaintances of the bereaved family 
filled the only other carriage. None of the occupants 
would builge to make room for the only mourner, the 
lonesome woman who had been left a widow by the man 
in the collin, and so the procession started oil, leaving 



THE SIXTH TRIANGULAR, 245 

hor behind. Now is not this the most mol;meholy-funny 
lhin<^ that could huvc liapiu'ucd ? Ivt'avin;jj the corpse 
bcliiud, as lias been diuu" hi'l'oi'c now, if veracious 
rcpofltM's cau be (ruslcd, is uol drolIiT. I'ancy llic fccl- 
inu's of lhi> solitary uiouiaicr, Icfl slaiuliui;' on (he door- 
steps, while the procession went a-way wilhout her I Of 
course she lauL^'hed — decoi'ously, behind hi>r handker- 
chief, and concealed it by counhin;;'. l)oul)(less (lie dead 
mail hiniself smiled, if he hail any ai)precialion of tho 
humorous ; perhaps he even laughed in his codiu, as hib 
widow couLihed in liei- lauuhiuLi;. 

The ne\l (h'oll occui'renco is also of a funereal (diarac- 
(er ; it hapi)i'ned in New T[anii)shire. IjoIs of droll 
lhin>:[s happen in New iramjishire. A late resident of 
IJrislol was beinLC mournfully lowered into his 1oul>' home, 
when it was found (o be nol longcnou;j;h for him. " Tlie 
fifrave," it has been eUxiueutly said, " conceals all short- 
coininus." Ibit this grave revealed them, and stood 
itself convicted. 'Idie fact was pathetic enougi\. 'idii'so 
are hard linu>s, and [X'oplo must economi/e in nearly 
everything; but when a man has been pinched and 
woi'ried an.l compressed and crowded through his allotted 
term i)n earth, it does seem as (hough he ought, at last, 
to have a big enough hole in the ground. lUit this poor 
soul's last bedroom had been made so small (hat tho 
cask(>( had (o be taken out for (he purpose of reuu'dying 
the (hd'ect. WhiU> it was being moved from the grave, a 
portion of (he earth caved in, causing one of (he bearers 
to fall into (he gi-ave, and the other three, being unable 
to sustain (he whole weigld,fell in loo, and (lii^ collin 
tumbled on the lot of (hem, and bruis(>d (Ikmu black and 
l)lue; (he only instance on record, perhaps, wherein one 
dead man has manairctl to net the better of four living 



24(5 THE TRTANGULAn SOCIETY. 

ones, nnd lio cnbinod, criljlx'd, confinod, oofllnod, nnd 
];vl><)riiiLj under ovrrv dis;vdv;inl:i;j;ti of i)i)siti()ii and nopular 
l)rrju(!icr, wlmli last always <:j()es against, tlic cliaucos 
of a dead man in any contcsl. 

A ("oncord papci' rcccnily anndunccd, willi all llic dii;- 
iiily of a rull-racc IicadiuL;', llial " Mr. Ulank's lavoriln cat 
fell IVoni a, lliii'd-sloi'y wimlow lo llie sidewalk, this Wn-c- 
iioon, and was killed.'" Around (his slaleuieut eliui^s 
not only I he sorrow I'ul inliurst. altaidiiuijj lo uU lalal acei- 
denls, hut all the novelly of a new d(>parlure in natin-al 
Idstoi-y. lias il not always been proNcrhial that a cat, 
I'allini; from any heiu'lit, will invai'iahly alight on its feet ? 
Have not wicked boys, without llio fear of Mr. liergh 
or liis disciples befoi'c llieir eyes, moi'c than once li-ied 
IJH' cxpei'imcnt of (lrop|)in!^ a (hdenccless ])ussy from a 
lni;h window, or from llu>. jjjreat l)canis of the liarn, JusL 
to s(>e how surely and inevitably she would alii^IiL right 
side up, or mor(> |)rop(M'ly I'i^hl side down ; at, any rato 
with her feet down, and, naturally enoiii';h, undei- Iho 
outragi'ous pi'ovocaliou, with her batdc up? Again, there 
are few falls witlu)nt assistatice or in-ovoeation. I'-ven 
]Cve was pushed; and Adam lias been whining self- 
exteiuialing excusi-s for his (uiidtle, from tliat day to 
this. l''ew human Ixdngs fall without being .shoved by 
fiomething; cats never. Ari> we (o believe that New 
llauipshire cats are falling away from the traditions of 
llicii- forefathers? If so, even Dai'win coidd not lay tlu^ 
bliune to natural selection, l\)r sundy no cat would natu- 
rally be so foolish as to select J'or amusement, a fatal 
llight from a, third-story window. I'ndei- th(> circum- 
stances, llu^ great naturalist would pi'rha])S be jusiilicd 
in calling it a case of reversion. 

A resilient of llopkinlon, New Hampshire, ivgain, Avas 



TiiK SIXTH Ti:,iAN(;iiLAi:,. 



217 



irl<('(| hy ||i(i si:;lil, of ;i, I»i,i,' sloiic near Iiis rcsiflcncn. 
II: was 1(1(1 i)iL,' lo In- lia.iil('(| away ; ii ('(Mild iiol lie IhiiihmI ; 
])c. could not sell il, because in lliai Slalc, Hit! (Iciiiaiid for 
l)()iddcrH is iiol, hrisk, lli(i supply hciiiuj slill la-i';j;ely in 
itdvaiice (if llic dciiiand. So lie l)(|li(Hi"lir liitii loliiiiy 
il, ; asdioiij^li llic. carlli in IliaX localily wci'c iiol- already 
niinici(!Ully liard-lK^ai'tcd. Iiejcnioiis man I He dii'/; a, 
])\'^ hole, and ar^^Mied willi llie viH'.k hy means of ropes 
iuid eliains, and llie imiselc of n;fanjj;ers and oxen, and 
]iei'liaps liydianiic lanKt, lo indnee. il, lo i'all in vvilliliis 
l»lans. 

ISnl llie I'oek did nol vvaiil lo he planle(l ; il knew il, 
would never eonie lip. Aiel when ils enemy insisted, 
Willi reu(!VV(Ml lopes and Iresii chains and aii'^Niieiiled 
gnin;^(U-H and a,(MilionaJ oxen and more and lii;.dier 
druiilie rams, and (Ik; I'oek round Ihal ils lime had come 
to ;,'() under, ir delerniinetj, like S.imson, lo carry il.s 
(iiiemy Willi il. II nol- only I'ell in wilh his ai'ra.n;jje,- 
MK^nls, hul, wilh him. And Hie chronielei- udds, wilh a, 
circuinslaulialily only e(]na!l(Ml hy iiis palhos," lie liad lo 
h(! du;^ oul," -an expression which somehow inlimales 
Dial, his rri(M)ds lhou;;hl, il, was more Ihan lie was worlii. 
Now llial, lie knows how iinpleasaiil, il, is (o lie nol only 
" ill cold olisl iiiclion," hill, »/)////, a, cold ohsl riiel ion, per- 
Juips lie, will nol, he so I'asl here.irier lo perl'orm the rilt;, — 
no, tlio wroiifi; of Hcpulliire on an niiwillin;j; vielim. 

S(!a,r(;ely had Ihi! I'ciiders ol' (ininilc! Sla,t(! locals wc.uv- 
ortMl IVoin llie ahove- recilal, when il, was announced in 
lli(! same, joiii'iial llial, in (lolehrook, a, cow liiid heen 
killed hy a hen. TIm! inslaiil, (jueslion, " Ilow (;onld a 
lien kill a, cow?" meets llwias inslant answer, "Wilh an 
axe." The <'ow was eomin;.i; out, (d' llie slahle, when a, 
hen Hew down hy (he. cow's head, at, which Ihe cow 



248 TnR TUTANCtTLAR SOCIETY. 

juinpiHl ami ran aiiaiust a halohol, the oilgc of which 
entered bel wccu Inn- ribs. Who was to blame ? The hen 
AVas ill her own douiain; slie had a right to fly down; 
and liad not the cow a riglit to fly np about liaviiig hor 
head brushed with a hen's wing? Xobody would lilvC 
it; even a steam hair-briuli would be preferable. The 
account a Lis sa lly, that the cow died iu three days. It 
is further stated that she was the cow of a poor man, and 
his only cow, at that. It is not oa record that in that 
whole three days, tlie hen made the least attempt at 
apology or restitution. Doubtless she salved her con- 
seienee by mentally laving the blame on the party or 
parties unkuown, who made the axe; and condemned as 
accessory before the fact, the blood-thirsty grindstone 
which whetted it. 

IJut uotwithstanding'her self-cxtcnuation, who envies 
that hen's frame of mind in the darkness of the haunted 
autumn nights — say about Thanksgiving time? Amid 
the remorsel'ul shapes which will haunt her rest, Avill she 
not see again, as in a vision, the retributive axe ? 

Again in New llamijshire, laud of marvels, a farmer 
of Chesterlield was annoyed by a "■fly"' one day in hay- 
ing time. This is not an uncommon circumstance; but 
mark you, "he has since had sixty or seventy larvre 
extracted from his ear." Flies are not over fastidious ia 
their choice of nurseries, but the apparently unnatural 
negligence of its progeny manifested by this insect, is 
past precedent. How on earth could the tly know but 
that the man might possibly wtxsh himself before her eggs 
had time to hatch ? 

There were two remarkable qualities about that tly, — 
the perfect accuracy with which she knew her man and 
his personal habits, so that she not only felt safe in mak- 



THE STXTTT TRIANGULAR. 249 

in.2; Ills closo acquniutniK'o Ikm-shIT, but in introducing licr 
cliildrpn, — and Uio ini,'cnnily which she displayed in dis- 
covering that a liuniau head which could not be good for 
much else, would answer an admirable purpose as a fly- 
factor}^. 

The sympathetic newspaper which records this occur- 
rence, says Hint the man " will probably es<^ape with no 
])crm:nuMit injury." Spari'owgrass' I'ural neighbor lold 
him that it was " good for young fruit-trees to be chawed 
by cattle," and declared that lie had his " chawed " every 
spring; and possibly there may bo a head so unoccupied 
that even the l)uzzing of an iTjii'U insect within it, might 
break the tircisome monotony of stupid hoUowness, and 
haply be mistaken l)y tlu'. unaccustonu>(l ])i-oprietor for 
the nidiiicalion of an idea. 

Yet again in l^cw ITainpsliire, "an eccentric citizen of 
Sutton," who <lied not long ago, bcMpuia-tluMl to hia 
daugjiter four hedgehogs, to his oldest son live dollars, to 
the second son twenty thousand dollars, and to thi^ tliii-d 
thirty thousand dollars. Most fair-minded parents in 
America feel that there is a cruel injustice in the English 
notion of pi-imogeniture. Th(>y fail to see why tlie fa(;t 
that a child happens to l)e the (irst-born of his pannits, — • 
a fact to which lu! is only an involuntary party, — should 
confer on him a position and privileges which are deniiMl 
his equally or more desei-ving brother, who, by no faidt 
of his, chaJU'es to be born later. Ibil the fact thai a ))oy 
is the lirst-born of a groui), if it be no virtue in liim, in 
as surely no sin; and why this man should cut his oldest 
son off with five dollars, and bestow on his youngest tho 
snug sum of thirty thousand, is as unjust as the opposite 
course would have been ; though not so unjust as the 
ci'uelty of holding his one unhappy daughter up to ridi- 
11* 



250 TllK rUlAXCl'LAK SOCIETY. 

culo by l>0(]Mo;itIiini>' \o 1\tM' four hodixoht^!:^^ — '*<ho 
lini'st,'" said this (riulcr |>:irt'iil, " h> Ix" louiid in my 
\v<u>il-li>t." It \v»»ul<l stH'iu bad omnij^h U> 1h> made tlio 
it\l\(M-iti>r i>r I'lnir bodm'lioj^s, woll caunht, and t-asy (i> 
co\\\c by; but luiiuan nadirr, «'Vi"H a woman's patient 
uatnn\ cries ont auainst ti>e nnt'airni>ss of biMJii:; matUi 
(bo bi'ir to fonr wild nnriviU/ed bodm'bo^s, witli (lio 
lUH'essity ol' doinL;' Iut ow n catchiu!^'. 

Tbe testator fonld iiave done only oni< wi>rse tlun<;lty 
bis dau'-hler; lie nu;;l>l liave b(Mint>a(hed to ber an nndi- 
vided third o( I'onr Iiedi^ebo^s, tbe ri>mainin_i; tbirds to 
belong' to liis siuis, and then plaeiMl an oxeentor over 
(lu> whole lot. Then the sons wonld ba\e cheated and 
eoaxi'd the danu'hlef on! i)t' ber shaiH> in Iho liedmdio<;s, 
and the i>xeeutor woidd iia\i> lunnhunninl and (inibhltMl 
Iheni out ol' iheir shari> and hi>rs loo; and be and iho 
lawyeis would have ^ot tbe wlioU> at l;ist — as they will 
now, i'or that innder, only al'UM' a briefer lli^lit. It is 
astonishing' to the noi'nially sellish nnud, by the way, to 
notiiH> how n\any men spiMid lon^' laborious lives in i>iueli- 
inj;', suvin;;, eontrivinji", und sniTorinij, to vavw and maUo 
and i::alber and board money lor tl>e sole bi'nelit and 
advantai^iMd' (bat sp(>eies of animal jHipnlarly kn«>wnand 
oxtH'rated as the exeentor. Kvi-rybody remembers tho 
litled Irisbman who exelainu>d ■with ni)blo passion, 
'> What lias postiM'ily dowo for lis, that, avo slionld do so 
mueb I'or posttM-ily V " And one nalnrally iiupiires, what, 
have exeeut(^rs, as a species, doiu> for weallhy men, that 
till" latter should wrou';- (heir own wives, idicat their own 
children, and distract* (heir own memories, as (lu>y so 
oflen iU>, for no other apparent purpose bn1 (o enrich 
oxiH'Utors? 

Thoro is Olio com fori Udt for tbi> deceased SnI Ionian's 



TIM'; SIXTH 'I'IIIAN<!IM,AK. 



'ifil 



(liiii'^Milcr :iiiil cldcsl, soil, 'riicir I'lil Iht is dciul ; iiiid llio 
AVOiid ('Mil hill srcin iiiiiili lu'i'dilci' to llirin u'illioiil lli;iii 
Willi Hiicli !i |i:i,rciil. Tnii', willi ilui privilc^^n popnliiriy 
)i.('('<M'd(M| |<) spild'iil (lend iiicii, lie <-:iii I'cmcIi oiiI, of IiIm 
fj;r;i,V(' In krcp \\'\a money :iw;iy IVmiii llicin; mom y wliii'li 
llicy Ikivo doiiMlcHS, iiiidiM' his rule, HiilTei-ed luid hiJtored 
MioiiL,di lo ('iini 11 riiir Hli:ii"e of; luil IIimI is IIki wochI, lio 
(MM do. Tlie world is :dl Ixd'oii' llicm where lo (•Ii()oh((, 
Jiisl, , 'IS ij, would liiive Ix'eii Iiiid llieir riiiher heeii ;i, p;iii- 
])er ; nml lliey li:i\c more re;isoii lo rejoiee in his reinoviiJ, 
Kiliee ii. riillier who e(.iild he ho eriiel ;i, lyriuil, iifler IiJH 
(jeiilh, nuisUi;i\'e lieeii :i slill more eriiel one ill hisiifd, 
llie reeordiiiLidl' wdios(^ pel I y domiiu'erin^^s luid «!x;ispe,r- 
iiliii;^' simill opprcssioiiH woiiM prohnhly h;iv<) worn onl. 
all I In; (|iiills of uli ilio jxn'ciijiineH in his vvood-lol, 
nl'oreH.'iJd. 

A yoiiiij; iiiiiii ol' I'';irmiiiij;iliile, in IIiIh Stiili!, lhoii;;lil, 
li(! <'oiild niiike m, ;^M»od IkiiiI hy (Isliiiiix from a Hvnl on tlin 
Hlern-whecl of ,1 |)le;isiire-steiinier which liiy ill. Ilie. whiii C. 
II(Mmisl, h:i,ve lieeii ^;re,i,lly iihsorhed in his lishin^';, for 
he s:il. Iliere iiiilil Ihe hoaX Hliirled and kmxked him iiilo 
the wheel, and he vviM carried round once or Iwice, heilijL? 
very hadly hriiise I and hurt, lit; can now .'ipply for a 
pension on the ". round Ilia I lie is a hero of the ri' vol 11 1 ion. 

'I'JKM'e has for years lieeii a I radii ion of a woman who 
accidentally opeiicij her iiioiiHi so widi^ that slie could iiol, 
nhiit it; and wheiie\cr the "silly season" has come 
round, Ihe, story has come out, alrcsii, with new and 
witty (;oinin(Uils. At. last, Ihe shoe is on the olher fool,. 
A man has really accomplislied the feat, so ionuj ascrilKid 
to a woman. While ridin;,' mar i'.rookrndd, ( 'oiinect,i<-iil,, 
lie opciie(l his nioiilh so wide in yawniii'^' t hat, he dislo- 
(^atcd his jaw, and had to ride three niilcH t,o a, doctor 



252 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

before he could <xvl il replaced. Here is somelliin<:r \nn- 
giblc, siuce the ileni appeared in the newspaper of tho 
man wlio set it down (hat Inilh crushed to earth shall 
rise a<;ahi. 

One more item, a nu^laueholN^ one, recites how a lly, 
a "busy, curious, (hirsly lly," naturally busy, certainly 
curious, and presumably thirsty — tlies always are — 
actually disloeated a man's shoulder. This Avas in 
Gk)ueester, JNIassaeluisetts, and the shoulder was (linlo- 
cated by the man's wrathful elTorts to kill the lly with a 
towel. The moral is, keep your temper, and h't llics 
have tlu'ir own way. The inlkience of bad example is 
pernicious and damaging. If this impatient man had 
not been ])nt out, neither would his shoulder have been. 

AlasI there is not roouj in this paper for all tho 
remainder of reei'iil odd and droll incidents, Kew Hamp- 
shire and other; and the chapter nuist be closed without 
any allusion to the sportive man in Sackville, in the 
above State, who "accommodated" a friend to money 
recently at the rate of one hundred and eighty i)er cent, 
interest; or the lloscawen curiosity-hunter who has, in his 
museum, a, kitten with one eye in the middle of its face, 
and a frog with six legs and a tail ; or to the " eminent 
counsel " at Concord bar, who used the expression ''we 
submit" eighty limes in an argument of an hour\ '.lura- 
tion; or to his colleague, who in a late plea., repeated 
" as for that matter" over a. hundreil tiuu's in two hours; 
or to the depressing state of things about 2*Jewburyport, 
where " a feeling of insecurity is creeping over the coun- 
try towns, and many farmers are arming themselves " 
because one man's hen-roost has been robbed; or of tho 
man in New Hampshire who invented a way of catching 
lish without bait, and put it in practice by stt'aling all 



TinO HIX'IMI 'I'UIyXNClM.AU. 



253 



llic salmon in (licSlalc lialcliiii^'-lioiisc al LiNcriiiorc; or 
of a, I'ldvidciicc H|)orl,siiiaii, wlio, al li'inpl iii'^- lo ncl, ii 
H(|llii'i'('l oiil: of liis hole, ill lli(^ sliiiii|) of a, lice, liy llio 
in<^r('iiioiis iih'IIkmI (if poking aboiil wil li Ihc Imll, of liis 
ffiin, wjiili- lioldiii^- llio wcsapon Ity ihr. mii/zic, was iialii- 
I'ally sjiol ill lli(t Icif hy an accidciilal discliai'^c, and will 
die, wliilr llic S(piiiT('l slill lives, and smiles as well as he 
can Willi his elieeks I'lill of iicol'lis, and niedilaieson llic, 
Sid Villi! a,;j;e of Ivcu'piii;^ a(, IIh^ hi^'^'est, end of IIk^ 141111. All 
lliese Ihiii'^s and moi'e innsi, he passed hy in silence. I>id, 
Avlio helieyes llia,L New l<;ii;^laiiderH lire iiol, runny? 



XXIII. 

NEVER WRITE VERSES. 

" Mother,"' said Brunette, one peaceful evening, as 
they sat together, in that quiet hour so dear to house- 
keei)ers, — the hour when "the last chore is done," 
the house closed for the night, bi'eakfast " calculated," 
and the clock wound up, — " Mother, you are young 
yet, and have many years to live. Let rae give you a 
j)iece of advice, which it is too late for me to use 
myself. It is this : be careful never to get up a name 
for writing verses." 

" Why, Brunette," said the astonished mother, " I 
have heard — I thought — I have certainly heard some- 
where, that 'the gift of poesy is its own reward.' I 
never could have invented that line, it sounds too 
much like poetry," mused she, absently turning round 
and round tlie well-worn wedding ring, now a mere 
golden thread, which distinguished her penultimate 
finger. "And it ought to be true, for your sake," she 
added, " as your verses don't bid fair to declare any 
more palpable dividend. Is that why you warn me 
against being a j^oet ? " 

" That was n't exactly what I meant," said Brunette, 
smiling, "but one reason why you mustn't be known 
as a verse-writer, is because if you are, everybody 
254 



NEVER WHITE VERSES. 255 

expects yon always to be posing as a sentimentalist. 
Now I hope I appreciate sentiment, in my small 
degree, but I do abhor sentimentality. I detest, for 
instance, those silliest of people, mostly mooney young 
men just out of college, who, on a 2:)icnic, or a walk, 
are always citing me to a withered flower, or a dead 
leaf, or an old bird's-nest, with, ' There 's a subject for 
your muse. Miss Smith ! ' " 

" But they only mean to make a good impression, 
and give you the idea that they are kindred spirits," 
said the chai'itable mother. 

"Kindred fiddle-sticks! Is that the reason why, 
the other day on the island excursion, when I was 
starving, having eaten nothing from six o'clock in the 
morning until nearly four in the afternoon, and we 
began to unpack our baskets, young Mr. Popeyes said 
to me, 'Of course you '11 not eat anything, Miss Smith? 
I believe poets' food is love and fame?' And when 
I leaned against a damp tree-trunk, and got a neuralgic 
pain in my arm, he said, with tremendous wit, that 
he did n't know so etherial creatures as poets ever had 
rheumatism. I wish somebody would set a mouse- 
trap for that fellow." 

" What could one bait it with ? " asked the literal 
mother. 

" Cloves," said Brunette, spitefully, " he appears 
always to be nibbling them, whenever I see him." 

"A bad sign in a young man, my child, — don't 
encourage Iiis acquaintance," said the astute mother. 

" And tlie other day, when the grocer gave me two 



256 THE TRIANGrLAi; SOCIETY. 

C(Mits too little oh;ui<i-o, and I inslstod on my duo, lio 
Bniilcd ;i greasy smilo, and said he did n't suppose 
poets were so carcfid of coppers. The cro])ing old 
nilsealenlator ! " exelainied I)riiiu>tte, energetically, 
"as tliongh two cents were not of as much value to 
me as to liim ! " 

"I have always said you are two centsitive, my 
child," calmly commented the mother, " hut where did 
you tiud that Avord 'croping"? 1 don't helievo it's in 
Worcester." 

" Got it from my great-grandmotlier," said JJrunette. 
"It's one of the hest words, too, and never ought to 
be lost. It means more than grasj)ing, or close, or 
near, or penurious, (n* covetous; it means, in short, just 
cro;>/>?7, and nothing else, — it is delightfully exjiressive. 
And it just Ills our grocer, who is always making mis- 
takes in change, but never one against himself. I 
always distrust a man whoso blunders are always in 
liis own faAor. Ibit why should lit a ]>oct (not that I 
claim the name), be hungry, and thirsty, aiul tired, 
and lame, and careful of money, as Mi-ll as other jieo- 
])le'? 'Ilath not a Jew eyes'?' ll.ith not a poet 
ncM'ves, a stomacli, (nnnmon sense, and a need of ])ost^ 
age-stamps'? Is she not 'fed with the same food, 
hui't with the same weapons, subject to tho same 
diseases, liealed by the same means, warmed aiuI 
cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian 
is'?" 

" Yon speak as though a poet can't bo a Cln-istian," 
said the mother, failing to recognize the (juotation. 



NIOVI'',!!. WIM'I'M VKItMI'.H. 



2r,7 



" \V« II, i(, /,< li.iiil WMik," :i;'T<T<| llniiicltc. "'riiink 
<»!' I, lie li.'ill' |i;iiil Jclli'iM lull '>!' \\ oil lilcHM m;iiiiiHcii|)t, 
wliK'ii !lli' N<iil. Ii» UK- l>v iillri- h( r;ui;j;rrM, lo Iki 
' cril.iciHcil .•111(1 ciiiicilrir ( l.li;il, iiic'iiiM | iniiscd ), ;inil 
rrliiMiciJ III. i;iy <>\\ii cxim'iisi'! 'I'liink dI' (Ik- |ir()|i|() 
vvlnt write to mo lo hcikI IIiimii :iii ■■ Miilo'-i-nidi coity ' of 
;i. |i()('iii (illy liiicH luti'j;! 'riiiiik (if (lie :i|i|tli(',-i,ti()iiH lor 
II sl;iii/,;i, Iroiii I lii:i, ;iiiil ii ^ vci'Hc ' liom lli:i(, iirnl ;i |i;i";n 
lr(»iii llic oilier, ;ill lo ol»li";e |)co|)|c whom I never 
H.'iw! Now e;m lliey (liiiH ehiim my lime, wliidi in 
money, my l;il)or, wliieji is (lill,(t, .-unl my |ireeions 
]»()Htii;4'('-stiim|»H V" 

" I Hil|)|»ose every one of (liem lliinks lie is (lie only 
iqililicant, ;mii Hii|i|M>ses il. .'i. eom|tlimenr To ym,'' 
«'.\|il;iine(l llie mollier. "People Ii;i,ve droll idellH of 
(•((III 

"And wliiil. i.s worse," liroke in lier indi"ii;inr d;iii;di- 
l,er, f^rowinj^' voliiMe under lier wron'^H, " iJiink of ( lio 
j»(M)|»|(! wlio Willi' l(> me .'iMkiii'^ me to wiilc lliem ;i. 
pcrHoiKil poem ;ilioiil, I, lie de;illi of .-I wife, or child, or 
frn'iU,-:iiiiil, whom I never heiird of. L.'IhI, mimiiier, 
Homeliody Mciil, me from Wyoming.';, ii, reijiieiil, l,li;ii I 
kIioiiM wrilc ;i, poem iilioiil, !i. (•!ipl,;iin in iJie urmy, wlio 
li;id Iteeii kill<'(| liy (Jie ji,liiiH<v| ,'ind oiilr.'ij^cil Iii(|i;uiH, 
:iiid I h.'iij never known, hefore, of his exiHlcnee." 

"I l.lioil^ld, yon ii.se(| l,o reply to iJiose iJiiiif/H," H.'ii<l 
lier mollier. 

"I ;iiii Msli.'iiiied |,o H:iy lli;ii when I wiis yonnycr 
Ulid more foolinli, I did," Hhe replied. " I wrote, oiieo, 
u I'Uif^ poem :i,l, (,h(t re<|iieHl, of :i, li<!;u'l,-l)rok(!ii widower, 



258 THE TRTANOULATl SOCIETY. 

liitcly boivt't. His appeal was so toiicliiiii;- tliat T 
could iTt refuse. Of course it was a matter of a little 
delay, and when, at last, I sent the poem to him, lie 
returned it, sayin<;- that as lie was just married, he no 
longer felt the need of it, and was sorry lie had 
troubled me. JVo'iu 1 deposit all such a])pli('nti()ns 
tenderly in the wastc-hasket. And I used always to 
send my auloti-raph, when it was re(piested, and the 
recjuest accompanied by a stamped t>nveloj)e. liut 
never any more." 

" Why not I* it is surely a little thing to write your 
name for an admirer." 

" Because 1 discovered, after awhile, tliat there are 
numbers of men in the country, and out of it, who 
make a regular business of soliciting autographs, 
Avluch they afterwards advertise for sale, driving <piito 
a jirofitable business. Thus for two postage-stamps, 
they ]>rocure an autograph which they afterwai'd sell 
at anywhere from a <piarter to five dollars; it depends, 
of course, on the greatness of the name." 

"That does make a difference," assented the mother, 
M'ho was always open to conviction, "but it is a great 
})ily that one can't distinguish a real, honest admirer 
from such blood-suckers as those. Is n't it an ingen- 
ious way of making money out of otlier people's i-epu- 
tations?" 

" The other day," said Brunette, " when I was enter- 
ing the office door, I met the local editor, the best- 
natured ])erson alive, who smilingly assured me that 
there was a gentleman wailing for me in the library, 



KKVKR WUITK VKU«KH. ^269 

;i, IViciid who \v;is 'very iin|i;i(j(Mil, ' (o H('(^ iik^ I 
li.'islciK'd u|> sl;iirs, t liiiikiiiu,' il, iiii^lil, Ik- my \v<';illliy 
otchI-uiicU^ IVoiii 'rriiicoiiiulcc, coiik! Iioiik* to iiiiikc iiH 
Jill li:i|>|»y luid wcallliy, vvlicii uii iiU.cr str.-uincr rosd to 
iiicct 111!', s;iyiii'_;' tli;it \\v. Iiml hccii \v;i,itiii;^ some liiiio 
to H('c,iir(' my :uito<ri':i|»li in liin Itook ; :iii ciioniioiiM 
volume, uliicli lie could iiiii-dly ciuiy. 1 ri'idit'd tli:it 
I never wrote in ;ill»iiins, .■lud \v:is in miicii li;iste, ho if 
lie wonid excuse nu', I would i^o on with mv murn- 
inti;'H work. Jle persisted, mid I |tolitcly dccline(|, 
tlionu'li >U'tt!e<| hy his importunity, imd (Jie udditional 
vex.'ition of kuouin;^,- th:i(, the smiliii'^,' loc;il edilor \v:is 
Jlt IiIh desk, .•ind could nol, help iist(!niui4' to the whole 
converHMtion. At l;ist my dis;iii,-ree:il)le visit(»r H;it; 
down in the hest eh;iii', l(»ok ;i newspnpi'r, composetl 
liimself, :ind s:iid, ' W^ell, I 've ;ilre:idy lost om; tr.'iiii 
I'or Uoston, for tin; H!ik(( of <^<'l,l,ini;' your !iutot!,'r;iph, 
;ind I propose to lose another, riither tli;in ^jjive up th(! 
iden of hiivinj^ your name in my hook. I iim !.;'oinn; to 
remain until you write; it,.' 

"1 replied insl ant ly, ' ( ), if that is the case. I will 
write; it at once ! ' and I ilid, and so i^ot, rid of him." 

" I ■iieor/f would have done; it," Haid the usually 
amiahhi mother, " h<; nii'^ht have stayed theri! until 
tJi(! owners of the ItiiildiuL;" hrou^^ht him a hill for rent,. 
I don't helievc! in payini^ people for impudence; it, can 
l)(! ^'ot cheaix'r." 

" And then another reason why you must, not, he 
known as a, v(!rse-writ(!r, my (h.'ur yoiinj^ woman," 
resunu'd JJrunettc, "is because if you are, and any 



260 TIIK TllIANOTTLAR SOCIETY. 

Icl.lcr-wfitcM', hook-fcvic'wcr, or editor, speaks of your 
work in coiiiiirniK'ntiiry terms, half your good frioiuls 
will at once assume that in sonic way, yoii arc yourself 
responsible for the complunciit ; in fact, they credit 
you with everything that is s;ud in your praise." 

" I think you mistake, my child; no one would he so 
iinfair as that! How can you prevent conunents on 
published articles ? " 

"I can't, more 's the pity; but T tell you truth. 
Tlio other week, a down-east journal was actually 
guilty of saying tliat some poem of mine w:is 'superior 
to Loiigt'ellow.' 1 could ha\c cried with mortilication 
and vexation, for I knew it was not true, and I knew, 
also, tliat it would be ascribed to me. Sure cnougli, 
the other day, on an island steamer, I heard a young 
man behind u\c remarking in a loud whisper, ' WhaX, 
Miss Smith V the Miss Smith who thinks her poems 
superior to Longfellow's ? You don't say ! ' said he, 
cvidenlly intending me to hear hin\. Wasn't it pro- 
voking?" 

"1 call it extremely ill-bred," responded the mother, 
"a thing which no gentleman or lady would do." 

"And then," i)ursued Jlrunettc, now fully aroused, 
" when once I ha|)pcnc»l to write a, poem that by some 
whim or chance became suddenly popular, and was 
quoted, garbled, murdered, sung, and stolen, u}) and 
down the country, to my own amazement as much as 
anybody's, — I was presently complimented by being 
c:illed ' irrepressible' in the newspapers! llow was / 
to blame? Zhad never published the poem but once; 



NEVER WRITE VERSES. 261 

I never asked anybody to republish it, or procured 
any allusion to it, in any way whatever. And yet I 
have been more abused and ill-treated on account of 
tliat unlucky poem, than many men arc for mui-der, or 
even for worse crimes. Talk about newspapers l)eing 
the voice of the people, and ' vox populi vox Dei ' — 
it 's nonsense — and worse. And that brings me back 
to my text — if you write verses, don't let anybody 
know it." 

" But what 's the use of writing if no one reads ? " 
asked the puzzled mother. " What 's the use of ex- 
pression if no one understands it ? You may as prof- 
itably allow the water to remain in the well, as to 
draw it up with laborious patience, and let it evapo- 
rate in empty air without doing anybody any good." 

" If you are inclined to write verse," said Brunette, 
*' it may do you good, as a means of relieving your 
pent-up feelings — and as for being understood, why, 
you can read your poems out of the attic window, 
after dark, when the world is still, and the trees are 
in a listening mood, and the bats are sociably atten- 
tive, and the moths, and fire-fiies, and June-bugs, and 
all the pretty things that fly by night, draw near to 
liearken and appreciate. They constitute as good- 
natured and sympathetic a public as any conscientious 
and self-respecting verse-writer is likely to find, dur- 
ing hizcr life-time." 

" What 's the meaning of Inzer f'' asked the mother, 
abandoning, for the moment, the subject of discussion. 
Not an opinionated and conceited mother, this, but 



262 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

keeping herself " low and wise," and ready to receive 
instruction from her own children, if need be. 

"Hizer? O, that 's one of the tliree stars in Grant 
White's crown of glory," said Brunette, " He grew 
tired of forever writing ' he or she,' ' his or hers,' and 
' him or her,' and so he attempted to supply a long- 
felt want by inventing three pronouns, each of which 
should include both sexes, — ' hesh ' for ' he or she,' 
' hizer ' for ' his or hers,' and ' himer ' for • him or her.' 
It was a grand achievement, and I honor liim for it, 
and if he could only have devised some means of 
making people adopt the new words, he would have 
deserved a silver statue, and I would have gone with- 
out a parasol all summer, and given the cost "of one 
toward his pedestal. There never was so labor- 
saving — " 

" But it 's asking rather too much, is n't it, to require 
that a public benefactor who has invented a blessing, 
shall oblige the world to take advantage of it ? " 

" Quite likely ; but if ever I own a newspaper, I 
will insist that those three blessed jironouns shall 
be habitually used in it, instead of the clumsy plu'ase 
which they displace. And anotiier reason why you 
must not be known as a verse-writer," persisted Bru- 
nette, who never left a subject until she had freed her 
mind, " is because of tlie unaccountable notion, preva- 
lent everywhere, that persons, especially women, who 
write verses, are wholly and utterly impractical. I 
have learned some things by other people's experi- 
ences, and I assure you that, how hard soever you 



NEVER WETTB VERSES. 263 

labor, how much soever you earn, how closely soever 
you bind yourself down to the severe rules of self- 
supporting industry and independence, still, if you 
ever ijublished a stanza in your life, people will say — 
' O yes, harmless enough kind of woman, but vision- 
ary — fanciful — not j^ractical and every-day — writes 
verses, you know ! ' And then if you marry, and 
your husband does n't make a fortune in two years, 
people say — ' Of course he will always be poor, — liis 
wife is a poet, — all imagination, of course, ^ith no 
economy, or knowledge of housekeeinng ! ' And you 
might do all the household work, even to the washing 
and scrubbing, and all the sewing for yourself and 
children, and still you could not satisfy j^eople that 
you were practical or helpful." 

" I am convinced," said the mother. " After I 
become a poet, I will never marry, out of deference 
to people's prejudices. And the array of reasons why 
I must not write verse, is appalling. I resign all my 
ambition that way — I never will write poems." 

" Because," went on Brunette, not quite satisfied 
with her case, " if you do, your friends will always be 
saying — ' How delightful it must be to write ! If I 
could Avrite as you do, I would write all the time ! ' 
I am so tired of it ! When we were boarding, a year 
or so ago, and I sat opposite that red-faced Major, he 
was always saying that. What a gormandizer he 
was ! and how persistently he made that remark to 



me ! 



t » 



" Yes," responded the mother, " and I remember 



264 THE TKIANGULAK SOCIETY. 

witli grief the impatient reply that you made, when 
for the twentieth time he said — ' My dear Miss 
Smitli, if I could write as you can, I would write all 
the time ! ' You actually looked him in the face and 
said (he had just sent for a third plate of pudding) — 
' My dear Major, if I could eat as you can, I would 
eat all tlie time ! ' " 

Brunette laughed. " Well, perhaps it was a little 
rude, but he deserved it. And again, your friends 
are always asking you to write something specially 
for them — ' something not to publish, but to keej:) ' — 
and they will not be pleased, either, with any light, 
personal thing which you c:in write in half an hour ; 
they want something studied and elaborate, which 
will take more time and pains tlian a two-page poem 
for a magazine. And they think you can manage it 
as easily as you would turn on the Sebago, and draw 
a pitcher-full. And I will close this lecture by read- 
ing you a dimension-piece which I wrote on one of 
these commissions, the other day, (and Avhich I know 
won't suit, ) and then it will be bed-time. But, my 
dear young friend, beware of getting a reputation as 
a writer of verses. Even your own j^recious mother 
will not appreciate them! " 

WRITING TO ORDER. 

" Dear friend, if I could only sing like you, 
My life would be one dream of rare delight; 

I would not cease my song the whole year through. 
But keep the sweet verse flowing day and night; 

Come, weave a i^oem just for me, to-day — 

Indeed, dear friend, you cannot say me nay! " 



NEVER WRITE VERSES. 265 

AVrite you a poem ? is there no escape ? 

Must I sit dowu and spin a narrow verse 
As one would measure off a yard of tape ? 

Mark the result! no stanzas could be worse 
Than these, to which laboriously I bend, 
Only to pleasure my exacting friend. 

Say, can you guide the spirits of the air, 

Or have the rainbow come before the shower ? 

Or tell the clouds what color they shall wear, 
Or help the gradual budding of a flower ? 

Or call the robins back before they choose, 

Hurry the sunset, or bring down the dews ? 

Can you command the planets where they roll, 
Or speak a nebulous world to sudden prime ? 

Or force the tides to own your small control, 
Or bid a rosebud bloom before its time ? 

Or make the brook run faster at your word, 

Or regulate the warbling of a bird ? 

Or make the morn unclose her golden bars 
Before her hour, to let the daylight in ? 

Haste the appointed rising of the stars, 

Or show them when their annual rounds begin ? 

Or cause the auroral lights to fade or glow, 

Or tell the meteors which way to go ? 

" Ko! " is the wondering answer which you send 
Back to my queries, with indignant flash — 

"Rule ]S"ature ? no! " But I assure you, friend. 
He who should dare all this, were not more rash 

Than 3'ou, Avho would attempt to rule for me 

The power whose shadowing forth is poesy. 
12 



266 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

For he is wilful as the wandering air; — 
Ay, as capricious as the winds that blow; 

Sometimes I seek him vainly everywhere — 
Anon he comes, and stays, and will not go; 

Unwon by prayers, or tears, or love, or gold, 

Both hard to drive away and hard to hold. 

Sometimes he comes with airy retinue 
Of rare conceits, and fancies sweet and strange, 

And dainty dreamings ; and the long hours through, 
lie rings upon my heart their every change, 

While I walk charmed and haunted all the day, 

Until the fair enchantment fades away, 

And he is gone, as lightning leaves the sky; 

AVhither, who knows ? I may not call him back, 
Or if I call, he comes not; I might cry 

And wring my hands, and drape myself in black, 
But he would fling defiance from afar; 
I might as well entreat a shooting star. 

And days go by, but he is absent still. 
Perhaps to visit other hearts than mine; 

No inspirations then my pulses thrill, 
I cannot braid a verse, or weave a line, 

Or catch the strain that charmed me while I slept; 

My soul is silent as a harp unswept. 

And so I wait. Not now with toil and pain 
I try to win him back, and jjlead with him, 

And blame myself, and bruise my barren ])rain 
Against his lordly will or freakish whim, — 

For I have learned mute patience, knowing when 

My master pleases, he will come again. 



NEVER WRITE VERSES. 267 

So, friend, forgive this stubborn pen of mine, 

It will not always yield to my behest; 
The summer firefly can not always shine — 

The roses have the winter-time to rest — 
The sparrow does not warble all the year, 
And why should I, who have so few to hear ? 



XXIY. 

BROKEN BONES. 

"Brunette, Bessie Brier's broken her bones!" 
cried Bob, rushing in, pale and hatless, from his play. 

" Well, if that is n't a pretty good specimen of 
' a2:)t alliteration's artful aid' — " began his sister. 

" No," said Bob, out of breath, " they did n't have 
any litter — two of the girls just took her by the 
elbows and helped her home, just as the men lift 
about Mrs. Jarley's wax-works, and they 've sent for 
the doctor, and — " 

" Do you mean to say you are in earnest ? " ex- 
claimed his sister, springing up, and sending her 
sheets of manuscript flying over the floor. " I 'm 
going to see what 's the matter." And she flew down 
stairs like the wind. 

" There, she never waited to hear half the story," 
grumbled Bob, i^icking up one of the written sheets, 
and folding it carefully into the proper shape for the 
wings of a " dart," — for, having unburdened his soul 
of its bad news, he felt relieved from responsibility, 
and went about his usual mischievous avocations un- 
troubled, and with even more than his customary fear- 
lessness, because of his restraining relative's tempo- 
rary absence. 

268 



BROKEN BONES. 269 

" And I guess that 's one thing she won't make 
verses about," continued he, half-aloud, rummaging in 
her work-box for a needle. " Mother said, the other 
day, that tliere are so)ne things which have n't any 
poetical side, and I guess a broken leg is one of 'em," 
concluded he, as he threw his new dart vigorously 
against the wall. It struck directly in the right eye 
of a little-girl chromo, entitled " The Village Pet," 
which, on account of the dumpiness of the subject, 
was known in the household as " the village chub." 
It was too high for Bob to reach, and he knew that 
his sister would be back befox-e he could build a stag- 
ing of the table, a chair, and her desk, so he concluded 
to look unconscious, and trust the future. 

But when Brunette returned from her neighborly 
inquiries, the dart was the first thing she saw. "Bob," 
said she, '■ I think a great boy who is big enough to 
make cento stanzas, and read j^oetry to his mother 
and sister, is too large to play with paper darts — in 
that cruel way. at least," she continued, dislodging 
the weapon with the aid of the yard-stick from the 
closet. 

" It did n't hurt her any," said he, regarding the 
picture, "she never stopped smiling. And you can't 
always judge a poet by his size," remarked he, philo- 
sophically, "or anybody else," he continued, "People 
always tell boys that they 're too big to do this or 
that, or big enough to be better — as though folks 
were good in proiDortion to their size, and Daniel 
Lambert the best man that ever lived. That 's 



270 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

another thing that I don't believe in. But did n't I 
tell you true about Bessie ? " 

"Yes, tlie poor child will be kept in the house for 
weeks," said the mother, coming in from the gate, 
where a neighbor had told her the news. 

"And I suppose Brunette will be writing it out for 
her newspaper," said Bob, Avho always spoke of the 
office in whicli Brunette was merely a humble assist- 
ant, as though it were a small part of her private 
property. 

"That's just what I am going to do," said she, as 
she vanished up stairs ; " and I can do it better where 
there is n't a boy small enough to do mischief, and 
large enough to jihilosophize." 

That evening, after the lamp was lighted, she read 
them her account of the accident. 

THE FACT AND THE REPORT. 
A Portland Version of " tho Ring and the Book." 

Livo fact deadened down, 
Talked over, bruited abroad, whispered away. 

Itobert Browning. 

I. 

THE FACTS IN THE CASE. 

Bessie, litllo damsel fair, 

Whom this trulhrul talc concerns, 
With her blondest of blonde hair, 

Always minding one of Burns' 
" Lassie wi' tho lint-white locks — " 

Bessie, by some oversight, 
Had an accident, that shocks 

Pen and paper to recite. 



BROKEN BONES. 271 

One iiiiliic-ky <luy last, w(!(!k, 

She, in [)liiyiii,L; hide and Hcek, 
CHnilxvl llie <,M-;i])(!-vin(; hitlicc-work; — 

And, (() luii :iiid icach the goal, 
Jiiinixid oil' willi a(h-('adfiil jerk 

I'^il 1,0 sever sense, and soul. 
LandiM'4 on llie Iro/en L,'roiiiid 

In a liltle acliiiiLf lieaj), 
I'rcHenlly poor I>essi(! found 

She had made .1 eosUy h;ap; 
IJroken by lliat dreadful hurt, 
One poor ankh; liung inert: 

TwIsUmI Hoin(dioW, l)oth the l)one?( 

Snapp(!d like piix-.-stenis; and her groans 
Called her phiymates, h;df afraid 
And half douhlful, t(j her aid, — 

'JVo of whom, with careful tread, 

Hopped her isiovvly home to bed. 



ir. 

WHAT Tinc NKKilinOUS SAID. 

" There! that child has got a bump! 
She 's a lively one to jump — 

Climbing wall and fence and roof, 

Nc!V(!r scared, and tumble-proof; 
Anybody would have said 

'T is a marvfd, in its way. 
That Rh(! did not break h(!r head, 

Or lier iKu-k, befon; to-day." 



272 THE TKIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

III. 

THE RKSULTING CIRCUMSTANCES. 

Bessie, though laid up in splints, 
I>readed much the public prints — 
Did not wish this mournful tale 
Carried up and down by mail ; 
" No," said Bessie, " hoAV 't would lookl 
Ko young lady in a book 

Breaks her leg while romping — no, 
Do not have it published so 
In the papers' local news! " 
So her friends, who shared her views, 
Pitying her bashfulness. 
Wrote the story out like this: 

ly. 

THE NEWSPAPER VERSION. 

Pretty little Bessie B., 
Sat one morning quietly 

Hemming, by her mother's side. 

Kitchen towels, long and wide. 
Making labor do for sport, 
Singing softly "■ Hold the fort." 

Ah, 't was an unlucky day! 
With no warning creak at all. 

Suddenly her chair gave way, 
And poor Bessie caught a fall. 

Down she went, Avith dreadful jar, 
And, alas, untoward fate! 

Tibia and fibula 
Cracked off short beneath her weight. 



BROKEN BONES. 273 

Now poor Bessie lies and groans, 
With no color in licr cheeks, 

Kept ill ])ed l)y broken bones. 
Caged for six or seven weeks. 

V. 

COMMENT OF THE READER. 

Why should such a lovely child. 
Meek, industrious, quiet, mild. 

Sweet, domestic, musical, 

Suffer from a dreadful fall ? 
Had she been like some we meet, 
Always romping in the street. 

Like a tomboy wild and rude, 

Never trying to be good — 
Been as many others are, 
Less obedient to her ma, 

Less desei'ving of esteem, 
Less afi'aid of doing wrong. 

Less industrious at her seam. 
Less religious in her song. 

Less fastidious in her verse. 

Things could not have happened worse! 

VI. 

VERDICT OF THE PUBLIC. 

Gentlest ways and blondest curls 

Cannot alter Fate's intents. 
And the nicest little girls 

Meet, sometimes, with accidents. 

"Brunette," said her mother, wlien she had finished 
reading, " if you hoi)e to pass tliat oft" as a ' local,' I 
think you mistake; I don't believe tlic editor will 
publish it." 

12* 



XXY. 

THE SEVENTH TRIANGULAR. 

"I AM going to delight you witli some of your 
favorite prose, this evening," said Brunette, at the 
next Society meeting. " Whatever you can care for 
those stupid prose articles on current topics, is more 
than I can sec. But first, I have a little bit of verse, 
which may interest you because you know the locality 
mentioned. It used to be a pretty place up there, 
and I 've walked off many a fit of discouragement 
there; but they're spoiling it now by allowing those 
workshops and mills built down close to the water. 
It 's too bad." And she read the following : 

MUNJOY HILL. 

When, years ago, along the hill 

I wandered, in the twilight still, 
There, where the waters meet the land. 
The waves ran lightly up the sand. 

And old as time, but ever new. 

Sang their soft song — " Forever true! " 

Again I pace, with footsteps slow, 

The iilcasant haunt of long ago, 
And note how time has wrought its spell 
On all the scenes beloved so well, 

Where gradual growth, and loss, and change, 

Make half the landscape new and stx'ange. 
274 



THE SEVENTH TEIANGULAR. 275 

Ilcmem1)crc(l trees no more are seen, 
New boundaries check the stretches green; 

New roofs and chimneys sliarply rise 

Against the old familiar skies — 
And nothing, save the constant sea, 
Remains as then it used to be. 

The very fjices in the street 

Are changed from those I used to meet; 

Only the fickle, varying sea 

lias kept its vow of constancy, 
And murmurs still, the gloaming through. 
The same old vow — " Forever true I " 

*'It seems to mc," said the mother, "that your 
genius is particularly local. You are always har])ing 
on something in or about Portland." 

"And why notV" said IJrunette, with spirit. 
" Where should I find a prettier place? a place where 
the sky is clearer, the air purer, the men fairer, or the 
women braver? a place where you can walk longer 
without being oveitaken by a street-car, or work 
liarder for the money you earn ? And why should n't 
I write about the scenes and things I know best? 
Should I sit here in Maine and write al>out the glories 
of the tropics ? " 

"Moore sat in smudgy, foggy London, and wrote 
about the splendors of the east," said the mother. 

" And Dor6 sat in Paris and drew a picture of 
heaven," rejoined Brunette, " and I think neither of 
them caught much of the real spirit of bis subject. 
As for the east, Maine is east enough for me. And if 



276 THE TEIANGTXLAE SOCIETY. 

everybody would write about the place he knows 
best," she continued, *' if the j^oets of Portland, the 
skalds of Scarborough, the singers of Saccarappa, the 
warblers of Waldoboro, the bards of Biddeford, the 
minstrels of Meddyberaps, the versifiers of Vermont, 
and the minnesingers of Massachusetts, would all 
celebrate in verse whatever is worth celebrating in 
their own localities, what a glorified gazetteer we 
should have ! " 

The mother took a long, long breath. " I 'm afraid 
Longfellow's ' Poems of Places ' would occupy as 
many volumes as the Encyclopagdia Britannica," said 
she. " And who would read tliera through ? " 

" Fortunately that is n't the jjoets' lookout," replied 
Brunette. " If the world does n't choose to read 
what 's written for it, that 's the world's bad taste. 
But now I '11 read you something that is n't especially 
local." 

THE COLORADO POTATO BUG, D. D. 

HIS TRICKS AND MANNERS, AND WHAT THE 
NEWSPAPERS SAY ABOUT HIM. 

When, a generation or so ago, Mr, Say, the naturalist, 
discovered, in some cranny of the Kocky Mountains, the 
beetle, since grown infamous by the name of Doryphora 
Decemlineata, (by sundry exasperated farmers shortened 
to the d d bug, so surely does familiarity breed con- 
tempt,) he little knew what worry he was inflicting 
on the cultivators and devourers of potatoes, nor how 
heartily his discovery and himself would be execrated 
by future grangers. Had the veil of the future been 



THE SEVENTH TRIANGULAR. 277 

rent before that gentleman's eyes for a moment, and he- 
enabled to see the torment which he was preparing for 
others, perhaps instead of pluming himself on his dis- 
covery, and preparing a paper about it, to read before 
the Academy of Science, he would have contented him- 
self with mashing his wretched specimen of an accursed 
race, and turning over another stone in search of a bug 
with less mischievous propensities, on which to write a 
discourse. 

But, in an evil hour, Mr. Say gave the bug to the 
world, and now the world must make the best of him. 
The extent of his popularity has only been equalled by 
the rapidity of his increase; in fact, so widely have his 
name and achievements spread, and so important a feat- 
ure has he become in the calculations and prospects of a 
large class of people, so much space and thought are 
given to him in the newspapers, that many of the rural 
prints are hardly themselves without a potato-bug item 
in every issue. The number and variety of printed com- 
ments which have been made upon him, and the best 
method of murdering him, must certainly have highly 
amused the object of them, if indeed the D. D. reads the 
newspapers. 

When the beetle, or rather the grub — for the beetle 
himself does not eat much in his grown-up state — first 
began his ravages, the farmers rushed into all manner 
of experiments for destroying him. Soot, ashes, lime, 
road-dust, soap-suds, kerosene, whale-oil soap, and lots 
of other abominations were tried, to reduce his appetite 
and numbers, with imperfect success. Some of these 
things the bugs welcomed as a sort of relish, which 
increased their appetites for potato salad ; some of them 
killed the bugs and the potatoes too; and some were 



278 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

found to be so expensive as to make it cheaper for farm- 
ers to buy potatoes than to raise them. By-and-by some- 
body proposed to sprinkle the potato plants with Paris 
green. 

This drug, by the way, has peculiar properties. It is 
surely one of the most virulent poisons in the world, 
being that combination of arsenic and copper which is 
used to color wall-iDaper green, and which, thus used, the 
medical journals have so often spoken of as causing seri- 
ous illness and even death, in otherwise wholesome and 
well-kept homes. If the minute exhalations from the 
walls of a room may prove fatal, certainly it cannot be 
very wholesome to handle the same poison by the peck, 
or to inhale it, as one inevitably must, in strewing it 
over a large field. But the papers say one must " keep 
to the windward" of it. Alasl do not people generally 
keep to the windward of their wall-paper and carpets ? 
Physicians even go so far as to say that the small amount 
of arsenical green which is used in coloring some sorts 
of dress goods, has been known to have a fatal effect on 
the wearers, no matter how much they keep to the 
windward. 

Paris green seems to kill exactly what it is desired not 
to kill. It has been recommended as fatal to cock- 
roaches, but they grow fat on it. It is often prescribed 
for rats and mice, but nobody ever knew them to grow 
any less numerous from its effects. ]3ut the agricultural 
papers say that " one pound of poison mixed with fifteen 
pounds of damaged flour, and sifted on the vines," will 
effectually settle the hash of the bugs. ]S'o directions, 
however, are given as to the best method of damaging 
the flour, and there are many people who have none 
ready damaged. 



THE SEVENTH TEIANGtTLAE. 279 

Then again there arc persons who declare that the 
pestiferous bug will not die after eating the drug. A 
man in Alburgh, Vermont, sprinkled his vines with a 
mixture of two tablespoonfuls of the poison to a pail of 
water, and the next morning he found the bugs as lively 
at work as ever, and could find none of them dead. He 
took some of the insects and put them in the settlings of 
his pail, and left them over night. The next morning 
they were alive, and eagerly devoured some potato-tops 
which he put in the pail. On which occasion, probably, 
he wrote the popular lyric beginning: 

How doth the sweet potato-bug 

Unruffled and serene, 
Smile, as he nips the tender plant 

And leaves the Paris green! 

At the same time, word comes from Troy, ISTcw York, 
that large quantities of dead fish are found floating on 
the water and lying oh the banks of the streams in Rens- 
selaer and Washington counties. They have been 
poisoned by Paris green, which the farmers in that 
section have been using in their fields for the destruction 
of the potato-bug. In New Hampshire, five cows, stray- 
ing into a potato-field, were said to have been killed by 
eating the potato-tops which had been doctored with 
Paris green for the benefit of the bugs. Pennsylvania 
papers state that in Lancaster county, the potato-patches 
are full of dead English sparrows. The theory of their 
wholesale destruction is that the birds eat the Colorado 
beetle which has been destroyed by Paris green, and are 
thus poisoned. 

As soon as this story is digested, a Vermont paper 
comes out with a story of a wretched little boy in Wills- 
boro. who, coming into the house with a very dirty face 



280 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

moustacliod with the legs and whigs of insects, was asked 
to explain himself, when he stated that he had heen eat- 
ing potato-bugs, and so it proved. And yet the little 
monster was not damaged, and if he felt any qualms of 
the stomach, he never grumbled, nor did the bugs. This 
seemed a good way out of the D. D. difficulty ; it hinted 
at a useful and profitable employment for boys during 
vacation, and suggested the propriety of turning them 
out to pasture until potato-digging time, and so saving 
their board, beside securing a little quiet for their mothers 
and sisters. But somehow the bothersome bug does not 
agree with all constitutions. An Irishman in Massachu- 
setts was lately poisoned fatally by treading on them 
with his bare feet; and later, a man in Oxford county, 
happening to touch an excoriated spot on his neck, with 
fingers stained with bug-picking, died in consequence. 
In Canton, New York, a farmer was quite badly jjoisoned 
by the fumes of a mess of potato-bugs which he was 
burning in a pan. His face, hands, and parts of his body 
were badly affected, and it was with difficulty tliat the 
trouble was checked. 

More dreadful but less credible stories come up from 
the South, that land of marvels. A number of deaths 
have been reported as the result of bug-bites in Virginia, 
a notable case being that of a child in ]>rowneal, who 
was bitten by one of the insects, and died in fifteen 
minutes. These latter stories may, however, be better 
taken with a slight saline admixture, as coming from a 
State wherein more or less persons every year are said to 
die from the bite of the common house-spider; where 
children cry themselves to death; and Avhere, within five 
years, according to the local papers, the deceiver of souls 
himself has appeared bodily, with a strong smell of 
brimstone. 



THE SEVENTH TRIANGULAR. 281 

Somo of nu;s(! liilos of llic Itcclle iiiMy he. Iriin. All of 
thoin, surely, Ciinnot bo so, since Uiey an; flatly eoiilra- 
dictory. Like most individuals whose late it is to be much 
wafchcd and talked of, it is pi'obablc that the Dotyph- 
ora is somcwliat misrepresented — iu short, that [xMjple 
lie about liim. It is not at all likely, for instance, that an 
insect whose smoke when he is l)urned, or whose steam 
when he is boiled, is fatal to grown men, would l)e harm- 
less when takciu in quantities into the; stcniiach of a younj^ 
child, althoui^h the masculine infant of the human spe- 
cies can swallow almost anythin<f with impunity. And 
Paris green either kills tlus Doryphora or it does not kill 
him. If it is fatal to him in Maine and Massachusetts, 
he cannot fatten on it iu Yei-mont. And when we read 
that iu one section, it is the grul) alone that eats, the 
grown-up beetles having something else to attend to iu 
the way of stealing their nests and laying eggs, while in 
another State the papers declare that the adult bugs do 
the nusehief, we may be sure that somebody mistakes, 
and it is n't the beeth;. 

After all is done and said, in fun and in earnest, the 
Doryphora, which by any other name would smell quite 
as sweet, call him Chrysomelaor Colorado beetle, or plain 
potato-bug, as you please, appears to have somehow the 
best of it; and it is rather a good joke, on the whole, to 
see the lord of creation, as he is fond of styling himself, 
after all his vaunted mastery of the powers of the eartli 
and air, after all his triumphs over the stubborn forces of 
nature, thus utterly put to rout l)y a wretched little l)ug. 
He may boast about compassing the oceans, Ijut he can- 
not manage the curculio; he may prate about annihilat- 
ing distance by steam, but the unwinking eye of the 
Western grasshopper disconcerts him; he may spout 



282 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

orations and drink toasts about girding tlie world 'with 
telegraph lines, but the canker-worm outmeasurcs him, 
and makes desolate his beautii'ul places; he may grow 
eloquent about leaving his record on the ages, and then 
stand nonplussed before a miserable little hard-shelled 
beetle. He may boast that he "has power over all the 
beasts of the Held," ))utwise men lay their heads together 
in vain council against the soft defenceless worm, and 
governors of the Western States hold conventions to 
declare ineffectual war on the brittle grasshopper. Per- 
haps the Doryphora, like the toad, bears a jewel in his 
head, — a lesson of humility to overweening. conceit; and 
if, as pay for his preaching, he eats up all the potatoes, 
and worse comes to worst, people can live without them, 
as they did before the fourteenth Louis tried to make the 
tubers popular by wearing potato-blossoms in his button- 
hole. ]?ut in spite of all our boasted triumphs in science 
and art, the grasshopper, the canker-worm, and the potato- 
beetle put their thumbs to their noses and defy us as 
utterly as the frogs did the ancient Egyptians. 

"There 's something practical about that, now," said 
the matter-of-fact parent. *' I 've gained several new 
ideas from it, and so, I dare say, has Bob." 

"Well, I don't like it half so well as I did the arti- 
cle about the cockroacli," said Bob. " I like to hear 
something tliat has some of my own ideas in it, in- 
stead of new ones." 

'■ I dare say," said Brunette. " Most i:>eople are 
delighted at finding in print some notion of their own 
that they never would have taken the pains to set 
down. It gives them a hazy idea that they might 



THE SEVENTH TRIANGULAR. 283 

bo autl)oi-H themselves, if tliey would only l.-ikc IIkj 
trouble. Now it's our inothcr'H turn." 

" Here 'h Hometliirig J found in a inagazinc;," Kaid 
tlic lalter. 

AFTERGLOW. 
To one alislriise conundrum rnueli werioiis llioiic^lil I give — 
\Vliy is \l lliat tlit! j^ood nun die, and ;dl liic hud ones live ? 
Or why is il we nev(;r know our ncii^hhoi'^H i-an; [icyU-c- 

lions 
Till his last will and testament is read to his eonneetions? 

Ah, then the daily papers spread his virtues all abroad: 
They say he was " an honest man — the noldcsL work of 

God;" . 
How good lie was, how wise he was, how honest, in his 

dealin;^ — 
What ten<Ierness of heart he had, and what a depth of 

feelitjg 1 

Perhaps the man was one of those — ah, would that they 
were fewer I 

Who all his life ground hard and close the fae(;s of the 
poor; 

Who drove his debtors to despair by premature fore- 
closure. 

Then paid his pew-rent in advance, with infinitf; com- 
posure. 

Perhaps he was the lordly " head " of some uidia|)[)y jjlaee 
Called "home" by use and courtesy, hut lacking all its 

grace; 
"Wlio held his children criminals for every trifling error, 
"Who jduched his household half to death, and kejtt his 

wile in terror. 



284 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Perhaps* he was a lawj'er deep, whoso quibbling tricks 

and words 
Helped base executors to rob poor widows of their thirds ; 
Perhaps a thrifty grocer-man, whose wheedling, false 

palaver 

Sold toughest steak for porter-house, and chicory for Java. 

Perhaps he was a husband who, through all his married 

life. 
Regarded honor, faith and truth as duties — of his wife — 
Aud strove his sidewise discijDline beyond the grave to 

carry. 
By threats to leave her penniless if she should dare 

remarry. 

Any of these he might have been — the types are nowise 

rare — 
But when he dies, behold, we passed an angel unaware 1 
Since type and tongue proclaim his worth, Avliat cynic 

shall dispute them ? 
" Many there be who meet the gods," Ave read, " but few 

salute them ! " 

Why don't the papers say fine things of men before they 

die. 
And indicate these saintly souls ere yet they soar on high ? 
Then we might recognize them ere grim death and " cold 

obstruction " 
Have made it quite impossible to get an introduction. 

Ah, well — perhai^s when I at last beneath my burden 

faint, 
I, too, shall win the title of a paragon and saint. 
And be, Avhcn death's cold breath has blown aside life's 

dust and soiling, 
A grain of that superior salt which keeps the world from 

spoiling I 



THE SEVENTH TRIANGULAR. 285 

" Are n't you afraid of being considered too ' lo- 
cal'?" asked Brunette, roguishly. 

"Local? no, indeed — you don't mean to say tliat 
thci'c are any such men as those in this town?" said 
the horrified mother. 

" Surely no^," rejoined Brunette ; " it only reminded 
me of the eulogistic obituaries which I see occasion- 
ally. There is something droll in the fact that people 
are not at all afraid to speak in the most unflattering 
terms of a man during his life, — even the careful and 
conscientious newspaper magnate will not hesitate, 
perhaps, to give a brutally frank estimate of his char- 
acter and his achievements ; but after he dies, and can 
no longer be either hurt or helped by his fellow-creat- 
ures' opinion, they gloze over all his sins, and say 
nothing but good of him. I wonder if it is because 
the obituary-writer has an uneasy sense that ' the sub- 
ject of this notice,' disembodied and impalpable, is 
standing unseen at his elbow, and watching every 
word ? Or is it on the princijjle of a sentence I heard 
in the street the other day, as I hurried past a con- 
versation which was being carried on between two 
brainy-looking gentlemen, one of whom had a note- 
book, and the other a reporter's writing-pad, in his 
hand; — ' Well, we 're rid of old Blank, at last, and 
w^e may as well give him a good send-off ! ' " 

"That was business," said the charitable mother. 
"All professions have their little technicalities, you 
know. I don't suppose the man who said that, really 
expected to convince any of Mr, Blank's acquaintances 



286 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

that lie was a good man, or that heaven would accept 
him on the recommendation or representation of a 
newspaper reporter. I fancy people write flattering 
obituaries of a questionable dead man just as the 
Mutual Life Insurance Company pays his policy — 
for the benefit of his friends. And now Bob has the 
floor." So Bob read as follows : 

MADGE MILLER. 

Madge Miller, on a summer day, 
Walked, as usual, her pleasant way. 

Her dress was tidy, her apron white; 
Her face Avas sweet as the morning light. 

She was a simple village maid 
Learning a country milliner's trade. 

Her hands were soft, and her dress was clean, 
And little she knew what care might mean. 

She said, "I '11 work at my pretty trade, 
And live a happy and free old maid. 

" Lovers may come and lovers may go, 
I '11 have none of them, no, no, no ! " 

But a suitor came with a tall silk hat; 
He told her a story worth two of that — 

The same old story by lovers told 

Since larst the earth out of chaos rolled — 

(Let us kindly hope, who are old and wise, 
He did not know he was telling lies.) 



THE SEVENTH TEIANGULAR. 287 

" Marry me, darling, and you shall be 
The happiest woman on land or sea. 

" Xo longer then will you have to go 
To your daily labor through heat or snow. 

" It shall be my pleasure, my law, my life, 
To make you a blest and happy wife. 

" Marry me, and you never shall know 
A sorrow or hardship, a care or woe! " 

She heard the story of promised bliss — 
She waited, wavered, and answered " Yes !" 

Bright and big was the honey-moon, 
But clouded by worldly care too soon. 

For housework led her its weary round — 
Her feet were tethered, her hands were bound. 

And children came with their shrill demands. 
And fettered closer her burdened hands. 

In her husband's house she came to be 
A servant in all but salary. 

All her days, whether foul or fair, 
Were endless circles of work and care ; 

And half her nights — as up and down 
She walked the floor in her dressing-gown. 

Hushing an ailing infant's screams. 
Lest it should break its father's dreams; 

Or coaxed and doctored a sobbing child, 
By the pangs of car-ache driven wild — 



288 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Were seasons of wakeful, nervous dread — 
So if at last o'er her aching head 

Tlie angel of slumber chanced to stoop, 
lie brought her visions of mumps or croup; 

And she rose unrested, and went once more 
Through the dull routine of the day before. 

Week by Aveek di;l she drudge and toil 
And stew au.l pickle, and roast and boil. 

And wash the dishes, and rul) the knives — 
The lofty mission of duteous wives — 

And scrub, and iron, and sweep, and cook, 
Her only reading a recipe-book, — 

And bathe the children, and brush their locks, 
]jutton their aprons and pin their frocks. 

And patch old garments, and darn and mend — 
Oh ! weary worry that has no end ! 

She lost her airy and sportive ways. 
The pretty charm of her girlish days — 

For how can a i)layful fancy rove 

AVhcn one is chained to a. cooking-stove ? 

Her face was old ere she reached her prime, 
Faded and care-worn before its time. 

Sometimes would her well-kept husband look 
Up from the page of his paper or book, 

And note how the bloom had left her face, 
And a pallid thinness won its place — 



THE SEVENTH TEIAJSTGULAR. 289 

How gray had mixed with her locks of brown, 
And her forehead gained a growing frown, 

And say, " She is ugly, I declare — 
I wonder I ever could think her fair! " 

Season by season, year by year, 

Did she follow the round of '■'• woman's sphere,** 

Nor vexed her husband's days or nights, 
By any mention of woman's rights. 

Till she did at last — too sorely tried — 
Her life's one selfish deed — she died. 

Proud and happy and quite content 

"With the slavish way her days were spent ? 

Feeling, of course, that her life was lost 
Nobly, in saving a servant's cost ? 

Once, he fancied, her dim ghost spoke 
Out of its cloud of kitchen smoke — 

*' Why did I leave ray girlish life 
To be a dowdy and drudging wife ? 

*' I might have followed my tasteful trade, 
And lived a happy and free old maid — 

" Or taught a school, as I had before, 
Or been a clerk in a dry-goods store — 

*■'■ Or reigned a trim, white-handed queen, 
Over a dutiful sewing-machine — 

" And earned my living, and some small praise, 
In any one of these easier ways. 

13 



290 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

" No other servants than wives, I think, 
Work for nothing but food and drink, 

" A prisoning ' home ' like this I know, 
And a semi-annual calico. 

" No other employer, dame or man, 
Makes life so hard as a husband can. 

" Ah, me ! what curses are on his head 
Who wooes a woman and does not wed ! 

" O mourning damsels, who pine and cry- 
Tor fickle lovers, who vow and fly, 

" Heal your heart-aches, and soothe your woes 
With the hard-earned wisdom of one who knows: 

" Small reason have j'ou to blame or rue 
The lover who does not marry you I 

" Ah! of all sad thoughts of women or men 
The saddest is this, ' It need n't have been! ' " 

" Well, I must say Bob makes the drollest selec- 
tions — for a boy," said his sister. 

" Well, I found it in a New York daily," said Bob. 
"And I don't like the namby-pamby tilings that most 
people write for boys, any way, and I get as far from 
them as I can, in my selections." 

"You certainly kept a safe distance there," ob- 
served his mother. " And I 'in afraid there 's a good 
deal more truth than i^octry in what you read. Now 
hear this little song. It is set to an old tune called 
' The Downhill of Life.' " 



V' 



THE SEVENTH TEIANGULAR. 291 

TO-MORROW. 

Oil, when shall wc welcome that era of glory 

Foreshadowed since ages of old, 
That season so fondly in vision and story 

By prophet and siren foretold ? 
Our hearts, when with gloomy forebodings grown cold, 

New hope from the prophecy borrow, 
For pain shall be solaced and grief be consoled, 

And life be enjoyment — to-morrowl 
To-morrow ! — to-morrow ! 

Hope's burden is ever " To-morrow! " 

That wonderful dawning, oh, when shall we know it? 

Which dreamers have looked for so long ? 
That jubilee morning by preacher and poet 

So lauded in sermon and song ? 
When labor and care, with their wearisome throng, 

Shall vanish with trouble and sorrow, 
When love shall reign ruler, and right shall be strong, 

And youth be immortal — to-morrow! 
To-morrow ! — to-morrow ! 

Hope's burden is ever " To-morrow! " 

" That would sing well, because it has o in it so 
many times," said Brunette. " And speaking of to- 
morrow reminds me that it is bed-time " 



XXYl. 

TROUBLE WITH TYPE. 

" Mother," snid I>riincttc, ])r()(liiciiig ;is usual a 
crumple of paper from lier pocket, " I have some rid- 
dles for you, and you must guess every one." 

"Riddles? where did you find them?" asked Jier 
mother. 

"O, ill the proof, for the last few weeks," responded 
Brunette, "there has been a sort of epidemic of blun- 
ders lat('ly. For instance — ' Cliili's arms and feet 
will at last have a chance to show tlieir mettle.' 
What does that mean?" 

"I tjjive it up," said the mother. 

"It means <.tr)au and /Ajc^," said Jjmnette. "And 
here, immediately following an article on trichina', is 
the statement that New York is to be congratulated 
on a lot of new animals in the ])ork." 

"Well, perhai)s that means the jiark," said the 
mother. " I saw a telegram in the pajjcr, that was 
dated at New Pork, the other day. At first I thought 
it meant Cincinnati," said she, musingly. 

"Very well," said Brunette. "Now how about 
tliis — ' The children sat stringing easy-chairs for 
necklaces.' " 

"AVell, I really canH interpret that," replied her 
292 



TEOTJBLE WITH TYPE. 293 

mother. " I can't think of anything that would make 
sense of it." 

" They were only stringing daisy-chains," said Bru- 
nette. " And the other day, in the advertising col- 
umns, somebody wanted to dispose of a valuable 
grinning dog." 

" I don't wonder," said Bob, heartily ; " I think if I 
had a grinning dog I should want to sell it. Fond as 
I am of jjets, I never thought I should like to own a 
Cheshire cat." 

"But this meant a gunmng dog," explained Bru- 
nette. 

" I did n't know that dogs ever went gunning," said 
Bob, " and I should think that kind of dog would be 
more dangerous than the other." 

" Eitlier would be unpleasant," said the mother, 
from the depths of the Boston rocker, " and each for 
a different reason. A gun is objectionable because it 
sometimes goes off unexpectedly — a grin, because it 
never goes off at all. Nothing is so tiresome as a 
chronic smile." 

" There is no danger that I shall acquire one, while 
I am represented as stating to the world that at a late 
masked ball, several persons were dressed like pea- 
nuts," said Brunette, mournfully; "or that the cruelty 
agent lately overhauled a man at the Cape for having 
a starving cow in his brain. Who would ever guess 
that I wrote 'peasants'? or that the cow was in the 
' barn ' ? And when I gave out, in good plain print, 
a new way of cooking potatoes, what did I read? 



294 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

* Slice your jiotatoes into a dish of water, piping the 
same day in a towel ' ! " 

" Piping in a towel ! " exclaimed Bob, " what does 
that mean?" 

" The copy said, ' wiping the same dry in a towel,' " 
explained his aggrieved sister. " And when it is 
printed that Pope Leo was drowned in the Sistine 
chapel, who is to know that it means he was ' crowned ' ? 
And when the j)aper gravely announces that the 
friends of Colby University have been placed in the 
Portland Safety Deposit vault for safe keejiing — " 

"Friends are very precious property," said the 
mother, with an air of conviction; "but I should call 
that a rash way of trying to keep them. And you 
can't invest them, nor j^ut them out at interest, nor 
frame them and hang them up, nor — " 

" There is only one way," said Brunette, " and that 
is, to bury them. They never prove false, or get lost, 
after that, and nobody coaxes them away from you. 
But what about this culprit that was ' launched into 
spice ' ? " 

"Perhaps he was embalmed," suggested the mother; 
" but probably it means ' space.' ' Launched into space ' 
is always the rej)orter's way of saying that a man was 
hanged." 

" Here 's another bit of news," said Brunette, read- 
ing. " ' General Howard telegraphed to General Sher- 
idan some days ago, a long report covering his cam- 
paign against the Nez Perccs. But instead of recog- 
nizing it, Sheridan judge-whaled it on the ground that 



TEOHBLE WITH TYPE. 295 

no officer except McDowell was entitled to telegraph 
reports.' " 

" I can never guess what ' judge-whaled ' means," 
said the mother, after a puzzled pause. " I can't think 
of any English word that resembles it in any wise. 
What does it mean ? " 

" Pigeon-holed," replied Brunette, sadly ; " and 
though you laugh, it does n't seem funny to me. 
And here it tells of some contractor who has made 
some ' straw beds for carrying the mails.' " 

The mother laughed again. " That 's almost equal 
to the contract for furnishing the army with umbrel- 
las," she said. " It means straw bids, of course." 

" And verse does n't fare much better," went on 
Brunette. " Here are Logan's sweet old lines to the 
cuckoo, saying — 

' ISTow heaven repairs thy rural seat, 
And toads thy welcome sing.' " 

" Any way, toads do sing in the spring — or frogs," 
amended Bob, catching a glint from his sister's eye ; 
but at once recoTcring his assurance, he said, " Tree- 
toads sing, anyhow. And there 's no sense in saying 
that the woods sing, or in calling them a 'rural 
seat.' What does a cuckoo, or any other bird, want 
with a seat, I wonder? I just think that poem is as 
nonsensical as — as some of yours," he ended, in a 
lower voice. 

" Very well," assented Brunette ; " and in one of 
mine, when I said ' Your loving fingers seek for mine,' 
it a])peared ' Four loving fingers.' " 



296 TITE TPvIANGTJLAR SOCIETY. 

"Wonder wliat became of the thumb?" queried 
Bob. 

"Ask the intelligent compositor," said Bninette. 
"And in the article I wrote about an economical 
cook, wliat did he mean by saying * She used to chew 
the left-over potatoes and cold meat into new and pal- 
atable forms"? ask him that^'' added she, sliarply. " I 
believe they do these things on puq)Ose, sometimes. 
For instance : ' The thief stole an overcoat, and left 
for pants unknown.' Now do you believe tJtat was 
accidental ? " 

" There does seem to be some method in such mad- 
ness as that," mildly remarked the mother, " but what 
was meant for ' chew ' ? " 

" Why, * charm,' of course," replied Brunette. " And 
here — ' Twenty years since, when I was a child or 
two ' — is n't that rational ? All by putting it ♦ or ' 
instead of, as it should l»avc l>een, ' of.' And again, 
in a sentimental story, ' He had had but one great 
love in his life ; at present ho liad nine.' " 

"That must allude to ex-Congressman Cannon," 
mused tlie mother. 

"No," answered Bninette, "it should read none. 
One letter makes all that difference. And what do 
you think of a ' veteran actor who is hiled for a short 
engagement ' ? " 

"Nobody whose orthograj)hy is based on a good 
solid sub-structure of spelling-book, could mistake 
that," said the mother. 

" When you have been in a newspaper office as long 



TROUBLE WITH TYPE. 297 

« 

ns T have, motlier," uttercnl Brunette, with deep feel- 
ing, "you will have discovered that people can make 
a very good appearance in this world, and dress well, 
and talk elocpieiitly, who yet are not able to spell 
jtropcrly. I could tell you things about that, now, 
wliicli would make your hair stand up," she continued, 
with an air of awful conviction. 

"Don't, LJruuette," pleaded her mother, involunta- 
rily snioothiug down her own obedient locks. 

" Does peoj)le'8 hair rise, really, when they are sur- 
prised?" asked Bob, "and was that how Absalom's 
hair happened to catch in the tree, in the Bible 
jjicture? No wonder he was surprised when the 
donkey went out from under him. I never saw a 
donkey go so fast as that. When I tried to ride on a 
donkey, I never could get him even to trot. It 
must liave been a different kind of donkey that they 
liad in old times," he went on dreamily, " now-a-days 
donkeys never go fast enough to leave their riilers in 
tlie air." 

"Who said he was riding on a donkey?" asked 
Brunette, turning a flash upon him; "and do you 
suppose the donkey, if it was one, went out from 
under Absalom before his hair caught and lield him ? 
What a boy ! " 

" Well, it xiKis a donkey in the picture," said hum- 
bled Bob, trying to pluck up a spirit, and tlien sud- 
denly collapsing to — "or a rab]>it, so now. I know 
it had awful ears, any way." 

Brunette looked at him reproachfully, and read from 
13* 



298 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

her notes, " The prisoner held up his hand, during the 
reading or the indictment, which contained three 
cents." 

" Perhaps the cents were for the lawyers," ventured 
Bob. 

" Perhaps the word cents means counts,^'' said Bru- 
nette. "But what does 'children of foreign percent- 
age ' mean?" asked she, addressing her mother. 

" Well, perhaps — parentage ? " 

" And what does this mean, about Leigh Hunt, 
when it says that he published law poems against his 
friends ? " demanded Brunette, with asperity. 

" I can't guess," said her mother, " ask me something 
easier." 

"Lampoons," said Brunette; "and next, in speak- 
ing of a popular volume, it says here that ' the editors 
of the book were sold almost immediately in Paris,' 
instead of ' three editions.' And in New York they 
have been exhibiting ' a portrait of a lady which is 
evidently the work of one of the old mashers.' I 
notice, too, that Lord Bacon was insolent when he 
died ; that a ship from Liverpool was badly buttered 
by a storm ; that there has been a charge of revenue 
in a prominent law-case, instead of a change of venue ; 
that a man in Saccarappa lately lost a voluble horse ; 
and that after a recent robbery in this town, the tliief 
was arrested on the train with several travelling 
bugs — " 

"Most likely roaches," commented Bob, "they 
travel fastest of any kind I know." 



TROUBLE WITH TYPE. 299 

"And that the roots of some strange vegetable 
lately sent to tlie Natural History Society, looked 
like the dried feelings of a potato," went on Brunette 
desperately. " But if I misspell a word purposely, if 
the whole gist and meaning of a sentence depend on 
such misspelling, no critic has a nose so sharp to hunt 
it out, and a hand so determined to correct it, as this 
same avenging sprite, the compositor. When, the 
other day it came out in a Xew York law-suit, that a 
wealthy man of that city had been long in the habit 
of keeping large amounts of money in an old boot in 
his cellar, as he had no faith in banks, and I suggested 
that it was because he thought corporations had no 
soles, with what merciless accuracy did the Rebuking 
type-setter change it to ' souls ' ! pitying me, doubt- 
less, all the while, for my ignorance about so easy a 
word." 

"Of course, everybody delights to catch a critic 
napping. It must be especially gratifying to a com- 
positor who spends so much of his valuable time in 
picking out his own mistakes at the instance of editor 
or proof-reader, to find them guilty of a blunder. I 
think if I were a type-setter, I should really enjoy it." 

" There 's no question about it. The other day, in 
copying an item about the multitudes of fish said to 
be dying in the Passaic river, supposed to have been 
killed by the refuse from the Paterson dye-works, I 
unnecessarily remarked that ' fish are not so unsym- 
pathetic, after • all, since, though cold-blooded and 
generally considered devoid of affection, they seem in 



300 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

tliis case to be dying by tliousands, simj^ly because 
tlicir huninn friends on shore have dyed,' — and the 
sentence was made not only pointless, but false, by 
the correction of the last word to 'died.' " 

"People who make puns deserve punishment; 
you '11 get no sympathy from me in that grievance," 
said the hard-hearted parent. 

" Then I '11 recite a more agonizing wrong. If you 
had gravely written out the account of a slig4it acci- 
dent, without desiring in the least to be funny, how 
would you like to appear in print as stating that an 
estimable citizen had fallen on the ice and 'badly 
sprained his uncle'? What would you say to that, 
now?" 

" Well," lauglied the mother, " I suppose I should 
explain it by saying that it must have happened in 
consequence of the old gentleman's relative position." 

"Very good; and how would you like to be under- 
Stood as saying that a certain large new business block 
in town, lately finished, 'is now entirely occupied by 
ten ants ' ? " 

" I should expect to be sued for libel. But what a 
droll contradiction 1 In the very act of saying that 
the building is entirely occupied, it proves that there 
are too many spaces between the tenants I " 

"And how would it affect you to be credited with 
saying, in writing up the story of a destructive fire, 
where several acts of great bravery were performed, 
that a well-known and excellent citizen was the nero 
of the occasion ? " 



TROUBLE WITH TYPE. 301 

"People would suppose he did the fiddling," said 
Bob. " You need n't sparkle at me, Brunette, why 
should n't he accompany the liose company, who 
always play on the flames?" 

" And on the occasion of a tremendous snow-storm," 
went on Brunette, ignoring his remark, " a snow- 
storm that buried everything, and made travel tem- 
jiorarily itnpussible, the paper stated gravely, ' Up 
to the time of going to press, there have been one 
hundred and ten trains on the Ogdensburgh, to-day.' 
But that was easily explained. The copy said ' no 
trains,' the word ' no ' being slightly blurred, so that 
it appeared to the preoccupied compositor, to be two 
straight lines and a cipher, — 110 — which he spelled 
out. I wish he always had as good an excuse." 

"I was reading lately," said the mother, "in an 
article on the weather, where it spoke of dry winds as 
' air currants which have lost their ])umidity.' " 

" Dried currants, then," said Brunette. " And not 
long ago, in quoting from Macready's American diary, 
where he wrote a melancholy line about his failure in 
a city in New York — ' Played to a poor house. O 
Buffalo ! ' it was changed to ' Played to a poor-house, 
one buffalo.' But one of the worst things in this lino 
which has chanced lately, occurred in a clergyman's 
recital of his remonstrances with a poor woman of 
his parish, who spent her money foolishly. The 
patient pastor adjured her to buy food instead of 
finery, 'Let me beg you, madam, for your husband's 
sake,' said he, according to his own story. But the 



802 THE TEIANGULAE SOCIETY. 

compositor knew better, and in tlie proof, the sentence 
appeared, ' Let me hug you, madam, for your hus- 
band's sake.' " 

" Rather a singular proposition to make, out of 
regard to a husband," observed the mamma, " almost 
equal to kissing a dead soldier-boy for his mother, 
when his mother could never by any loossibility know 
anything about it." 

" And here a man is represented as complimenting 
his friend by calling him a 'turnip' instead of a 
trump ; and here we are informed that the congress- 
ional committee on shipbuilding met yesterday and 
agreed upon a ball, instead of a bill, which would 
have been much more business-like ; and that there is 
a strong probability that the 'suffering' will be 
extended in England, which seems needless ; that Rev. 
Mr. So-and-so, ' a well Congregational jsreacher,' lately 
died in Bangor — " 

" If he was well, how did he hap2")en to die ? " 
asked inquisitive Bob. 

" It ought to be ' well-known,' " said Brunette, with- 
out raising her eyes from her list. " And here it 
sjieaks of an Augusta man, recently deceased, who 
* was a man of strict integrity after the great fire of 
1865.'" 

"Do you suppose the fire scared him into being an 
honest man?" asked Bob, who liked to understand 
things. 

"I doubt it," replied the mother. "Such a refor- 
mation would n't last long. I think there should have 



TROUBLE WITH TYPE. 303 

been a period after ' integrity,' and the rest is part of 
another sentence." 

"Right, as usual," said Brunette. "And here we 
read that an excursion party had their camp in ' a 
beautiful grave ' ; and of something that happened to 
a New York man just as he was 'about to lease the 
city.'" 

" I 've heard of a rich countryman wlio went to 
New York intending to buy the city if he liked it," 
mused the mother, " but I never heard of leasing it. 
It must mean ' leave.' " 

"Right again; and here somebody won 'a prize 
cub ' at a cattle show — " 

" I noticed plenty of cubs at the Fair grounds, when 
I was there," said the mother, "but I didn't suj> 
pose they were considered prizes. I 'm glad I did n't 
compete." 

" So am I," said Brunette, heartily. " And here it 
speaks of the Russian ' changed officials,' instead of 
' charge d' affaires ' ; and says that a prominent citi- 
zen cannot long survive, as he is ' singing fast.' " 

"Perhaps he is like a swan, and sings before he 
dies," suggested Bob. 

" I think it means ' sinking,' " said the practical 
mother. " I read the other day, that a popular physi- 
cian had been elected ' professor of singing ' in a 
medical college ; but there it meant ' surgery.' " 

" And it tells here," jiursued Brunette, " about a 
man who made a fortune in college groves in Florida." 

" Groves of Academe," murmured the mother, 
" what does that mean ? " 



304 THE TRIANGULAK SOCIETY. 

" O, orange groves," replied Brunette. "And hero 
it states tliat ' tlie well-known poem describing Sheri- 
dan's ride to Winchester, is said by a friend of the 
hatter to liave become the bane of his life.' " 

" Why, Slieridan was n't a hatter," said Bob. 

" Neither was l>iichanan Read, Avho wrote the 
poem," said the mother. " In order to know who was 
a friend of tlie hatter, we must first find out Avho the 
hatter was." 

" There was n't any hatter, excepting in the ingen- 
ious l)rain of the intelligent compositor," explained 
Brunette. " It means ' a friend of the latter.' And 
here next it speaks of somebody who was dressed in 
a ' tail-cart,' instead of a tail-coat. How provoking ! " 

"From your indignation, I judge that the last two 
blunders were in some of your own articles," said the 
observant mother. 

" Yes, they were," replied Brunette, " and I can 
show you a worse one. I quoted the other day, a 
poem Avliich had in it the line 'How jiatiently you 
trod the weary way,' and now how do you guess the 
whole line was made absurd l)y the change of a single 
letter? By just altering the word ' trod' to ' trot,' " 
said poor Brunette, crimsoning with vexation, "and 
you sit there and laugh at my sufferings ! For my 
part, I don't see anything funny in a thing which 
makes one ridiculous and miserable." 

" I noticed the other day in a New Hampshire 
paper," said the mother, trying to divert Brunette's 
mind from her woes, " that on Decoration day at Bel- 
mont, in that State, ' the Belmont cornet band and a 



TROUBLE WITH TYPE. 805 

drum cor])SC from Lnconla ])lMye(l aitjiroj)riiitc airs in 
an inspiriting manner.' " 

"It must have been a clieerful occasion," said I>ru- 
nette. " I don't know wliether the dead march in 
Saul, or 'Down amoM^- tlie dead men,' would he con- 
sidered an apj)roi»riat(' air foi" a drum corpse." 

"I suppose tlie ai)i)ro]»riate lieirs of a drum corpse 
would be named inliis will," said J>oh, gravely. " l]ut 
I would like to know what this paper means when it 
declares that agriculture is the ' art of ants.' " 

The mother mc;ditated. "Moles liave often been 
called agriculturists, and there is a tro|)ical bird that 
makes gardens, but ants have not heretofore been 
accused of farming, — excepting that some of them are 
said to keep dairies," she said, presently. 

Brunette took the paper from Bob's hand, looked at 
the item, and smiled as she said, " Well, as the pa])er 
goes on to say that without agricultuix', ' man would 
be a savage, and the world a wilderness,' one may con- 
clude that it meant to say 'the art of arts.' " 

" That reminds me," said the mothei> " that the 
other day, in a newspaper, I saw the art of i)rinting 
alluded to as * the art preservative of all ants.' " 

"According to Brunette's idea that a printing-office 
is a favorite haunt of cockroaches," said Bob, " it 
seems to me that they made a mistake in the name of 
the insect, that 's all." 

" Here," said Brunette, " is an item which tells how 
a veteran farmer outwits the potato-rot. It says, ' he 
plants in the latter part of April or early in May, and 



306 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

wlicn six inclics liigli lie uses plaster. When blossom- 
ing, he mixes two parts plaster with one part fine salt, 
and puts a teaspoonful of the compound in each hill.' 
To ]>ersons unaccustomed to funning, it would seem 
that it is rather early for a farmer to begin agricul- 
tural i)ursuits ' when six inches higli.'" 

" But," said the motlier, " it seems to me that even 
this is not so surprising as his course ' when blossom- 
ing.' When may the average farmer be considered 
in blossom ? Does he bloom like the dandelion, early 
in the spring of life, or wait, like the great American 
Aloe, a hundred years ? " 

" That 's a question for the next meeting of the 
State grange," said Brunette. " But here 's an item 
which tells how a silly young man killed his sister with 
a gun which he su])posed to be unloaded; and the 
chronicler adds that 'before guns are ])ut away, they 
should always be discouraged.' " 

"I sui)i)ose he meant 'discharged,'" said Bob. 
"But that does n't always make things safe," he added, 
oracularly. 

" I don't see how a discharged gun can help being 
safe," said Brunette. 

"Well, everything isn't," replied Bob, positively. 
" In this very paper, it tells of an Ohio man who was 
killed by a discharged negro ! " 



XXYII. 

IN THE GARDEN. 

It was in tlic last of May, and an exceptionally 
lovely morning. All the family were in the garden ; 
the mother, in a white sunbonnet, was trying to cut 
the dead branches from a climbing rose-bush ; Bru- 
nette, with her hat covered with cobwebs, from a 
recent rummage in the cellar after the last summer's 
hoe, stood trying to tighten it on the handle by pound- 
ing it with a half-brick; and Bob, with no head cover- 
ing but his j'cllow hair, was kneeling beside his special 
flower-bed, dibbling little holes, in a row, witli a slate- 
pencil. The air was full of the very spirit of summer, 
and sweet with the odor of new fruit blossoms, and 
springing grass, and the wild, woodsy, delicious smell 
of freshly-dug earth, Avhile the birdd seemed holding a 
very jubilee of rejoicing song, 

"How lovely it is," said Brunette, pausing in her 
labor to pet her pounded thumb, " and how many fra- 
grances there arc! I smell the moist ground, and the 
fresh sods, and the buds on the trees, yes, the very 
bark of the twigs and trunks, I believe, and beside 
all these, and the scent of the fruit-blossoms, there is 
still something nameless, and sweeter than any or all. 
I wonder if it is the breath of bird-songs V How 

307 



308 THE TEIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

inucli finer is that red-breast's carol than tlie bubble- 
and-squeak of the ordinary caged canary-l)ird ! " 

"I don't know that I ever heard of smelling the 
breath of bird-songs," said the mother, picking a cruel 
thorn out of her fore-finger, " but — " 

" Why not V " queried Bob. '• I remember a great 
while ago, when I went into Mrs. Brown's, and the 
girls' niusic-teaclier called there with his wife ; he was 
a German, I believe, and I guess she was a Gerwoman ; 
anyhow, she was real kind, and took me on her lap, as 
she sat close by him ; and he sang a song for the girls, 
and I rememl»er to this day how his voice smelt of 
garlic." 

"Your testimony is on my side," said Brunette, 
drojtjting the hoe, after another cTq) at her tliunib with 
the brick, " but what on earth are you making those 
holes for ? " 

"These? these are bachelor's button-holes," said 
Bob, " to put bachelor's button seeds in, you know. 
It says on the paper, ' Centaurea cyanus^ but I never 
can remember that, and I like the name of bachelor's 
buttons better. Mother says they are called so 
because in foreign countries, where they grow in the 
wheat, like weeds, the young men wear bunches of 
tl)em in their coats when they -ro to market or to a 
fair. And in Germany they call tlicm kaiser-bloom^, 
because the old emperor liked thein ; and I 've heard 
them called thistle-pinks ; they have names enough," 
said Bob, ])reparing to plant the seeds. 

" But you must n't plant them so deep, Bob, they 'U 



IN THE GARDEN. 309 

never come up if you do ; at least, not on tliis side of 
tlie globe. I jiresume you want your flowers here, and 
not in China? These holes are deep enough for 
sweet-peas ; you must plant them deep, or else they 
will dry up under the hot sun, you know." 

After some small demur. Bob took his sister's 
advice, and planted sweet-peas in his *' bachelor's but- 
ton-holes," where they did admii-al)ly, flowering pro- 
fusely during the summer, a circumstance which he 
ascribed entirely to the method of planting, and so 
set down in his garden memoranda, "Always to plant 
sweet-peas in holes made with a 8late-])encil." 

"Mother," said he presently, " do oysters grow in 
gardens ? " 

" Certainly not. Bob, how can you ask such a 
question ? " 

" Why, I read in Brunette's paper, the other night, 
about oyster beds ; and if oysters don't grow in gar- 
dens in this country, I 'm sure they do in China, 
bec:uise that good-natured woman that brings home 
the washing, asked me yesterday if I had any China 
oysters in my garden ; and when I said no, she told 
rae that she had lots of 'em, and would give me some 
I>lant8 if I 'd come up to her house. And it tells 
about oyster plants in my catalogue, too." 

" Bob's array of circumstantial evidence is over- 
whelming," said Brunette, "many a Salem woman 
was hanged on less." 

The mother laughed outright, although a falling 
branch of the climbing rose had clawed off her sun- 



310 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

bonnet, and tangled itself in lier hair. " China oys- 
ters ! " said she, struggling with the many-handed 
enemy, " I have n't thought of that name for years, 
but when I was a child, it was common enough. But 
I can't unravel Bob's difficulty until I get out of 
my own. Do help me, Brunette. I am in a worse 
plight than Absalom." 

"• I believe," said Brunette, " that the cheapest way 
will be to cut your hair off and leave it in the rose- 
bush for a bird's nest." 

But after a season* of diligent work, amid groans 
and laughter, the poor mother was liberated, with her 
hair quite wild, her collar torn, her hands bleeding, 
and her cheek badly scratched. 

'' I don't want to be disrespectful," said Brunette, 
" but if Bob were in that condition, I should say he 
looked like the survivor of a cat-fight. ' jSTo rose 
without a thorn,' indeed ! If you should count the 
thorns on that bloodthirsty rose-bush, and divide them 
by the number of roses it bears, there would be 
thousands of thorns to every rose of 'em." 

" Now, mother," urged Bob, " tell me about the 
China oysters before you forget it." 

The mother had seated herself on the doorstep, and, 
with sundry little touches and smoothings, was trying 
to compose her ruffled })luuiage, very much after the 
fashion of a dishevelled bird. " The name means 
China-asters," she said, " the aster being sujtposed to 
liave come from China. The old-fashioned China- 
asters were single flowers, as single as an ox-eye daisy, 



IN THE GAEDEN. 311 

but of various colors, with a yellow middle. Nowa- 
days most asters are double, and nobody credits them 
to China. I can't see how ' aster ' was ever tortured 
into ' oyster.' But I remember once asking a market- 
woman in New York, the name of a plant which she 
had for sale, and she surprised me by saying that it 
was the 'Road to Dan.' I was a long time in discov- 
ering that she meant ' rhododendron.' When I was a 
child, I used to hear the heliotrope mentioned as 
' heal-your-throat,' and from that name, it Avas sup- 
posed by some people to possess medical virtues. As 
for ' oyster-plant,' Bob, that 's a kitchen vegetable, 
something like a jiarsnip ; so called because it does n't 
have a taste at all like oysters, I suppose." 

"When I was in New York," said Brunette, whose 
foreign travels had only extended thus far, " a lady 
told me that in her youth she vised to hear the com- 
mon Rudbeckia Idrta of the fields, called the ' three- 
lobed Rebecca.' How do you suppose that came 
about ? " 

"Who can guess? There's no accounting for the 
freaks of the rural imagination, when it lets itself 
loose among botanical names. Why do so many 
persons tell about ' cowcumbers,' and ' crambry beans,' 
and ' sparrow-grass ' ? And worse still — a woman 
from northern New York, Avhom I knew in Wash- 
ington, happening to meet me one day when I 
had my hands full of Maj'-flowcrs, said ' O where did 
you get those pinstry floicers ? ' When I expressed 
my surprise at the name, she said she had ahvays 
heard them called ' pinstry-blossoms.' After much 



312 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

search, I found out that she meant ' i^inxter-blossoras,' 
or ' pinkster,' which, in tlie locality where she was 
born, means Whitsuntide; the Dutch call it 'ping- 
ster.' It is a sort of survival of the old Knickerbock- 
ers, I fancy." 

" Not a survival of the fittest," said Brunette ; 
" there 's no name so sweet as May-flower for those 
blossoms. I don't even like arbutus so well. The 
name 'May-flower' just suits them." 

" And now I 'm going to have a pillar of morning- 
glories," said Bob. " Brunette, won't you help me 
set up this long bean-pole, and then I '11 have strings 
from the top of it, all coming down in a circle, like 
this, and tlie morning-glories will run up — " 

" A pillar, indeed ! " exclaimed the mother. " Bob, 
a circle of vines as wide as that, running up to a 
point, will be a wigwam, and not a pillar." 

" Well, a wigwarm will be a good place to camp out 
ill, when there comes a cool night," said Bob. 

" I think the nights will be })retty cool before your 
vines reach the top of that pole," ventured his sister ; 
" and your jjillar will take up half your room, beside ; 
your bed is no place for that," 

" Well, 7" should think a bed is just the j^lace for a 
pillar," persisted Bob. 

" I accei)t your apology, Bob, but how on earth are 
you going to get up to the top of this pole to fasten 
your strings to it ? " 

" I 'm going to have gumption enough to tie the 
strings on first," said Bob. 

"And how i:)rett}r that great bean-pole will look, 



IN THE GARDEN. 313 

stuck up here in the door-yard for two months, while 
your morning-glories are beginning to grow ! Like 
tlie ghost of a gigantic umbrella, with white twine for 
ribs," said Brunette. "And when jDCople pass by here 
after dark, they will think it is a phantom camp of the 
aborigines. Besides, how am I going to set up this 
great pole ? You ought to have a crow-bar." 

"What do I want of a crow-bar?" asked Bob, 
aghast. " Crows never come here ; there 's nothing 
for them to steal. By and by, I suppose, I shall have 
to put some sort of scare-robin out by my strawberry- 
bed ; but I 'm not afraid of crows." 

After some argument. Bob was reasoned out of his 
plan for a morning-glory pillar, and induced to plant 
his seeds close to the house, so that the vines would 
curtain the kitchen window, and a part of the back 
area. 

" It lightens house-woi'k wonderfully, to have morn- 
ing-glories look on while you 're doing it," said the 
sentimental mother. " They even lend a sort of gla- 
mour to dish-washing. House-work would not be the 
cramping, belittling drudgery that it is at present, if 
it could be done, like ploughing and harvesting, out- 
of-doors. But since it can't, the only way is to have 
a little of out-of-doors within sight of the kitchen." 

It may be mentioned that the morning-glories grew 
so rapidly that they soon curtained the window com- 
pletely, and multitudes of their graceful blossoms, 
I3ink, white, blue, purple, and lavender-color, looked in 
every morning. Bob declared that they were so will- 
14 



314 THE TRIANGULAll SOCIETY. 

ing and anxious to " lend a glamour " that they grew 
through the lattice-work into the area, and twined 
about the handle of the broom, and the gridiron, and 
everything else that happened to hang in the vicinity. 

" And now I 'ni going to plant some larkspurs, and 
marvel-of-Peru, and scarlet salvia, and zinnias, and 
prince's feather, and coreopsis, and gauze-flowers, — " 

"And here are ever so many more seed-papers," 
Baid Urunotte, investigating Bob's pan of packages, 
which was waiting on the door-step. " You never 
can plant them all in that small space ; you '11 have a 
perfect jungle. Bob. Here are poppy-seeds, and 
I^hlox, and flax, and mignonette, and candy-tuft, and 
velvet marigolds, and meteor marigolds, and what 
not." 

"I can't see why they're any meatier than the 
other sort," said Bob, busy with his nasturtiums and 
scarlet-runners; "and I know I have n't room enough 
to plant 'em all in regular rows, — and I 'm jiretty 
tired, too ; and so after I 'vc sowed a few more of the 
prettiest, I 'm going to mix the rest together, and 
scatter 'em all about, for a wild garden ; it tells all 
about it in my catalogue, and it saves lots of work." 

Brunette snid it must have been a very indolent 
person who invented the })lan of a wild garden. " A 
garden of wild plants and flowers would be delight- 
ful," said she, " but a garden whose wildness consists 
simply in looking as though it were planted by a 
maniac, is another thing." 

" It 's lots of other things," said Bob, who by this 



IN THE GAEDEN. 315 

time was recklessly emptying all his remaining seed- 
papers into the pan together, " only I can't put in these 
balloon-vine seeds, because if I do, they '11 twist about 
evei'ything else, and go squandering all over the walk." 

Bob had a habit of wrenching words away from 
their popular meaning, and forcing them into aiaen 
service, which his sister often found very entertaining. 

" Bob," she said, " you remind me of one of our old 
neighbors, who said that she generally made her 
doughnuts without sweetening, because her husband 
liked them better so, but sometimes she put in 
molasses, as she tliought it ' made them more amusing 
for the children.' " 

The motlier lauglied from her door-step, where, 
having finished her work, she sat resting. " And the 
other day," she said, " when we were walking round 
Bramhall, he called me to look away down on a dis- 
tant meadow, where he said he could see ' a drove of 
cattle slow mouldering o'er the jjlain.' " 

" Well, that word mouldering always does seem to 
me to mean moving slowly," said Bob. "When I 
make my dictionary, I 'm going to have it so." 

When Bob's wild garden began to grow, it was, as 
Brunette said, a sight to behold. Coreopsis, larkspur, 
ambrosia, asters, pansies, marigolds, petunias and 
everlastings elbowed each other amicably in tlie most 
altogethery confiision, protecting the weeds with their 
own lives, since not a weed could be ])ulled out with- 
out bringing with it half-a-dozen plants. But he was 
pleased with his success, and during the summer, 
gathered from it many a breakfast-table bouquet, and 



316 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

supplied his sister wlienever slie wanted a bright 
flower for her hair. And in return she made him this 
song in praise of his morning-glories. 

MORNING-GLORIES. 
O dainty daughters of the dawn — most delicate of flowers, 
How filly do ye come to deck day's most delicious hours! 
Evoked by morning's earliest breath, your fragile cups 

unfold 
]jcfore the light has cleft the sky, or edged the world 

with gold, — 

Before luxurious butterflies and moths arc yet astir, 

Before the heedless breeze has snapped the leaf-hung 
gossamer, 

While sphered dew-drops, yet unquaffed b_y thirsty insect- 
thieves, 

Broider with rows of diamonds the edges of the leaves. 

Ye drink from day's o'erflowing brim, nor ever dream of 

noon; 
With bashful nod ye greet the sun, Avhose flattery scorches 

soon; 
Your trumpets trembling to the touch of humming-bird 

and bee. 
In tender trepidation sweet, and fair timidity. 

No flowers in all the garden have so wide a choice of hue, 

The deepest purple dyes arc yours — the tendcrest tints 
of blue — 

While some are colorless as light — some flushed incar- 
nadine. 

And some arc clouded crimson, .'■".c a goblet stained with 
wine. 



IN THE GAKDEN. 317 

Yo hold not in yonr cahn cool hearts the passion of the 

rose, 
Ye do not own the haughty pride the; ri'gal lily knows, 
But all, no ])lossoin has the charm, the purity of this. 
Which shrinks before the tenderest love, and dies beneath 

a kiss. 

In this wide garden of the world, where he is wise who 

knows 
The bramble from the sweet-brier, the nettle from the 

rose. 
Some lives there are which seem like these, as sensitive 

and fair, 
As far from thought of sin and shame, as free from soil 

of cai-e. 

Wc find sometimes these splendid souls, when all our 
world is young. 

When life is crisp with freshness, with unshaken dew- 
drops hung; 

They blossom in the cool dim hours, wlusn all is still and 
fair, 

But cease and vanish long before the noonday's heat and 
glare. 

And if in manhood's dusty time, fatigued with toil and 

glow, 
Wc crave the fresh, young morning-heart which charmed 

us long ago, 
Wc seek in vain the olden ways, the shadows moist and 

fair. 
The heart-shaped leaves may linger, but tlie blossom is 

not there. 



318 THE TEIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

The fairest are most fragile still, the world of being 

through ; 
The finest spirits faint before they lose life's morning 

dew; 
The trials and the toils of time touch not their tender 

truth, 
For ere the world can stain them, they achieve immortal 

youth 1 



XXYIII. 
THE MALIGNED COMPOSITOR. 

" It is all very well for Brunette to make every- 
body laugli at the blunders of the poor hard-worked 
compositors," said the charitable mother, one evening, 
Avhen a circle of racrry young people had been edified 
and amused in the sitting-room, by that young lady's 
reading of sundry fragments of paper taken from her 
dress-pocket, " I saw it stated the other day that in a 
newspaper the size of the Adviser, the actual number 
of bits of metal which must be arranged for every 
issue, is not far from six hundred tliousand. The 
journal which made this statement went on to say : 

" ' We read sometimes of a wonderful piece of nujsaic 
work, containing, perhaps, fifty thousand pieces, the 
maker of which has spent months or even years of 
labor in producing it, and people go to see it as a 
curiosity ; but the most elaborate and carefully-fitted 
piece of work of this kind ever made, does not com- 
pare with that which the printer does every day, for 
minuteness of detail and accuracy of fitting. The 
man who does the first, is looked upon as a marvel of 
skill. If a hundred of his jiieces are put in wrong 
side up, or turned the wrong way, it is not noticed in 
the general effect ; but if the printer, in fitting tea 

310 



320 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

times as many })ieces togctlicr in a single day, puts 
one where another sliould be, or turns one the wrong 
way, everybody sees it, and is amazed at the " stupid 
carelessness of printers." ' " 

"I don't wish to underrate tlie craft," said Brunette, 
laughing. " I am only trying to prove that printers 
have a great deal more humor than is generally cred- 
ited to them, that 's all." 

" Would you like to hear about a little blunder that 
Bnmotte herself made once ? " asked the mother, 
mischievously. " Notwithstanding she has so sharp a 
nose for the blunders of others, I once heard her not 
only make a very embarrassing blunder, but persist in 
it for a whole evening. It cost me the acquaintance 
of a v;3ry nice young man, too," said the mother, 
regretfully. 

Brimette looked conscious. " Well, tell it if you 
like," she said, " since they all want to hear it, espe- 
cially Bol)," she added, perceiving that individual's 
face shining with ]»leased expectancy. " I know he 
is thinking, 'Anything to beat Brunette ! ' But how 
I haj)pened to do that, I shall never understand. It 
was a clear case of ' possession. ' " 

"It was while we lived in the South," began the 
nKJther. " We had a little evening party, and among 
the guests was a young man whose strong point, like 
that of many other Virginians, was his boast that he 
was descended from l*ocahontas." 

"Yes," put in Brunette, " it is noticeable that the 
average Virginian is always descended either from 



THE MALIGNED COMPOSITOR. 321 

Pocahontas, Patrick Henry, John Randolph, or tlie 
Lee or Wasliington family. I don't know how many 
of the latter I saw while I lived there. For a man 
who never had any children, I must say that Wash- 
ington heats the world for descendants." 

"I am not going to be led off the track of my 
story," persisted the mother. " This young man's 
name was Perkins, and he was always preaching 
Pocahontas. Brunette knew this, and thought it 
would be only good-natured to lead him up to his 
favorite topic, especially as he had yawned while she 
was singing. So she said : 

" ' Mr, Pokins, I hear you are a descendant of the 
Indian princess, Perkyhontas ? ' 

" She had been meditating this sentence so long; 
that she had accidentally mixed the gentleman's name 
with that of his renowned ancestor. He winced a 
little, and replied, proudly, but not at his usual length, 
while Brunette, ashamed of her blunder, determined 
to try again. 

" ' Do you have any idea that the historical account 
of Perkyhontas is true, Mr. Pokins ? ' she asked, 
again unwittingly falling into the same trap, through 
her very eagerness to keep out. 

"Mr. Perkins looked at her with rising choler, evi- 
dently suspecting her of making fun of him ; but 
seeing her seriousness and evident confusion, con- 
tented himself with a brief reply, the subject, for once, 
being distasteful to him. It was droi:»ped for the 
14* 



322 THE TEIANGULAn SOCIETY. 

limo; 1)iit poor Brunette could not bear to be set 
down aB ill-bred, and she planned to right herself by- 
recurring again to liis favorite topic, and at last pro- 
nouncing tlie name of his famous progenitor aright. 
So, later in the evening, hIic with some misgiving, 
a])proached the matter, Jiut the fiend who on such 
occasicms HceniH to take charge of [)eople'8 tongues, 
made her say, in the Ijriske.st and most engaging man- 
ner, calculated to disarm and conciliate her half- 
olTended listener : 

"'It seems to me, Mr. I'okins, that you are 
extremely unwilling to-night, to tell us about I'erky- 
hontas I ' 

" lie gave her a glance that ought to have broken 
her bones, and it is needless to add that tlu; young 
man never called again 1 " 

Everyl)ody laughed but IJrunette, who declared 
that the result of her mispronunciation was so melan- 
choly, that she luiver could see any fun in it. And 
]>()!) excOaimcid stoutly: 

"Well, I ho])e you '11 think of that, the next time I 
make a mistake, and not hold me uj) to public execu- 
tion as you generally do 1 " 

I»ruM(!ttc smiled at her mother, and evidently obeyed 
Bob's suggestion, for she neither laughed at nor cor- 
rected him, 

" 13ob mistakes a little, sometimes, too," said the 
mother, " but that mostly comes from his reading so 
much to himself, and not pronouncing the words aloud. 



THE MALIGNED COMPOSITOR. 323 

Do you remember a great, great wliilc ago, when you 
told mc you liad been reading about ' an elepliant of 
giantic preparations 'i* " 

" I meant gigantic proportions," said Bob. " Of 
course it was wrong, but, to tliis day, I tliink that word 
ought to be 'giantic,' it nutans like a giant, don't it V " 

"People taller than you make that same sort of 
blunder," said the mother. " I remember a gentlctnan 
who was a successful lawyer, and who attained a high 
political position in a southern State after the war, 
who once talked half an hour to rae about ' the Mil- 
kado of Japan.' I supposed him in sport, and laughed, 
and when he insisted that I explain myself, it ajipeared 
that he had always read and pronounced the word 
'Mikado' with an 1 in it. And he was so hard to con- 
vince, that he flatly contradicted not only my evidence, 
but tliat of a newsj)ai)er at hand ; and it was only by 
hunting u]» the word in various books and magazines, 
that I succeeded in assuring him of the correct 
spelling." 

" S])eaking of persistence in a blunder of speech," 
said JJrunette, " the power of precedent is astonishing. 
A lady friend of mine, who really knows better, when- 
ever she sjjeaks of an anemone, always calls it ' an 
enemy ' ; and not long ago, I heard a very scholarly 
gentleman, in telling a story about a great snow- 
storm, si)eak repeatedly about ' snovelling show.' IIo 
was not content with making the blunder once, but 
kept it up all through his story. And not long since, 



824 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

at an cvoniiit^ ]>-^^^yi ^ yo^^^^'t^ if'^" waH telling the his- 
tory of a rol>bcry, in which a certain seal ring played 
a very coiiHpicuoiis part — I believe the thief was 
ideiilified by ineariH of the ring. But every time that 
excellent and generally accurate young man mentioned 
it, he called it a'Hoal-skiu ring,' to liiH own infinite 
confusion, utid the bewildcrinciit of every hearer who 
did not uridcrstatid that a v(!xatiouB Kj»i'iLe liad tempo- 
rary ))osseKHion of his tongue." 

" Tiie other day," said the mother, " a lady was 
telling me about her father's family, of which all the 
boys were dark-eyed. ' But,' said she, looking me 
gravely in the face, ' we blue girls all had three eyes.' 
It is odd how, when one mistakes in the first part of 
a Hcnteiice, one is so sure to make an involuntary 
atL(;tript to restore the balance ])y another blunder at 
th(! end. One seems full of the insane notion that 
two wrongs will somehow make a right, and restore 
harmony." 

"1 was in a dry-goods store down-town, the other 
day," said one of the visitors, " and the ])roprietor 
assured me that his business was 'both wholctail and 
resale I ' JJut I came out before he had time to repeat 
it." 

"It is useless to try to mend such a thing by going 
back," said the mother, " as may bo proved by the 
mischance of an excellent man whom I knew in the 
South. He was (me of the most sincere and hard- 
working of clergymen, and was pastor of a little 



THE MALIGNED COMPOSITOR. 325 

church near Richmond. lie lifid, with all his goodness 
and sincerity, a severe affliction in an uncommon 
thickness and unmanageability of tongue. He was 
always making the most al)surd blunders in pronuncia- 
tion, trans])osing words, or misplacing syllables and 
letters. I'ainfully aware of his weakness, he, in his 
very anxiety to avoid mistakes, seemed to multiply 
them; and if he began liis Sunday's work l)y a blun- 
der, he was pretty sure, in his nervous woriy, to 
blunder on and on, through all the services of the 
day. 

" One morning he arose in the pulpit, and said, with 
much feeling : ' My friends, we do not gather grapes 
of thorns, nor thigs of fistles.' Horrified at this mis- 
take, it occurred to him that his best way woidd be 
simply to ignore it, and repeat the sentence correctly. 
' I wish to impr(!ss it upon your minds, my hearers,' 
he urged, 'that we can never gather grapes of thorns, 
nor from fistles can v)e expect thigs f 

"Recovciring partially from this accident, he under- 
took to give out the beautiful hymn : 

" ' While shepherds watched their flocks by night.' 

"It was Christmas-time, and the sermon that he 
had prepared, dwelt largely on the song of the angels 
at Bethlehem, and his mind was full of angels. lie 
arose and read in a strong, full voice : 

" ' While angels watched their flocks Ijy night, 
All seated on the ground, 
The anjicl of the Lord — ' 



326 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

" Here lie became aware of too many angels, and a 
lack of shepherds, and he hurriedly cleared his throat 
and began anew : 

" ' While angels watched their flocks by night, 
All seated on the ground, 
The shepherd of the Lord — ' 

" This would not do ; the shepherd was in the 
wrong place. The poor clergyman saw it, and 
thought, in his extremity, that he would not go back 
again, but would read the hymn through, and then, 
seizing the opportunity of repeating the first lino 
again, — a [)ractice with many pastors, — would rectify 
his error once for all. But this man was one of those 
more prone to follow precedent than to learn from 
experience, and, after finishing the hymn, he returned, 
like a moth to the candle, and with a powerful and 
impressive voice and manner, read, for the third time : 

" ' AVhile angels watched their flocks by night,' 

and tluMi suddenly retreated to the small room behind 
the ])u]pit, to recover his color during the singing. 

"Another uiducky Sunday, when he had rei)eatedly 
been made the sport of misfortune, and was somewhat 
nervous from a recent failure, he said earnestly : 

'"My friends, lay up for yourselves treasures in 
heaven, where neither moth nor rutht doth corrupt, 
nor thievth break through and thtoal.' 

" Normally, the man did not lisp in the least ; but 
the abundance of aspirates in the difficult sentence, 
completely demoralized him. He took a drink of 



THE MALIGNED COMPOSITOR. 327 

water, and began again, very red, and very much dis« 
tressed, but determined to have the proper number of 
sibihints this time. 

"'Where neiser moss nor rust dost corrupt, nor 
sieves break srougli and steal,' pronounced he, with 
emphasis. lie liad left out all the asjiirates ; and in a 
sort of frenzy, he exclaimed : 

*' ' I would thay, lay up for yourthclvth treathureth 
in heaven, where neiser moss nor rutht dost corrupt, 
nor sieves break srough and thteal,' thus displacing 
every th and every s, with an unconscious ingenuity 
born of utter desperation." 



XXIX. 

THE EIGHTH TRIANGULAR. 

" I WILL read first," said the mother, at the next 
Society meeting, " a few stanzas about a little girl, 
somebody's namesake, evidently, and a very charming 
and much beloved child. Perhaps one of you will be 
pleased with them." 

LIZZIE. 
Dear little dark-eyed namesake I 

The summers are all too few 
Since she brightened with graceful wearing 

The name that my childhood knew. 
I hoped it would crown her with sunshine 

Fairer than ever smiled; 
I said it should bring her a blessing — 

Dear little dark-eyed child 1 

I said it should bring her a blessing — 

Was I wiser than I guessed ? 
Was the blessing a long sweet childhood, 

And an early and happy rest ? 
For the loving circle that held her 

Is robbed of its precious pearl ; 
The youngest, the fairest, the darling; — 

Dear little dark-eyed girl! 
328 



THE EIGHTH TRIANGULAR. 329 

She stood where the path of childhood — 

A lane through a flowery wood — 
Led out to the wide, dim distance 

Of perilous womanhood ; — ^ 

Woman or angel ? — The future 

Like a question before her lay; 
What wonder she paused and faltered, 

And chose the easier way ? 

IN'ot for her are the crosses 

And bonds of a woman's life, 
Nor the burdens and costly blessings 

Which cling to the name of wife; 
Nor labor, nor doubt, nor anguish, 

jSTor the great world's dusty whirl; 
Not one of them touched her garment — 

Dear little dark-eyed girl! 

Timidly leaning always 

On the hearts which loved her best, 
Sheltered from every sorrow. 

She dwelt in the warm home nest; 
Never a grief came near her, 

Nor trial nor loss she bore. 
And none in the home that holds her, 

Shall find her forevermore! 

O fair and fetterless spirit! 

The name that my childhood knew. 
Though rarely I hear it spoken, 

Is sweeter because of you! 
What matter how little value 

On earth to the name be given. 
Since now it is worn by an angel, 

'T is tenderly breathed in heaven ? 



330 THE TEIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

" I missed one of my small friends last week," said 
Brunette, " one who always had a smile for me when 
I i^assed along on my way xip or down town. I 
thought perhaps he had gone away temporarily, for 
he always seemed so rosy and well that a thought of 
illness never occurred to me. But J presently noticed 
in the paper that he was dead. And I have written a 
few lines to his memory, which I will read you." 

BERTIE. 

All winter, walking up and down, 

I met him every day. 
And watched his beauty with delight — 

A merry boy at play. 
His tender face was rosy fair, 

A winsome face to kiss ; 
" A hapi^y mother she," I said, 

" Who owns a child like this! " 

I was a stranger — still he learned 

To know my face at last. 
And met my greeting with a smile 

Of welcome as I passed. 
His curls danced brightly in the wind, 

His laugh rang sweet and far. 
His soft brown eyes were frank and clear 

As babes' or angels' are. 

One day I did not hear his voice 

In the accustomed place ; 
I sought in vain his dancing curls — 

I missed his happy face; 
• And yesterday the cruel words 

I read with bitter pain, 



THE EIGHTH TRIANGULAR. 331 

Which told mc I should never see 
His lovely eyes again. 

The street is full of children still — 

They run and laugh and call, 
But yet I miss the shy sweet face 

I prized above them all ; 
And I shall walk my morning way 

Alas, a weary while, 
Ere I forget the lovely boy 

Who gave me smile for smile. 

" I have some verses here about a little child, too," 
said Bob, " but they are not sorrowful. I '11 read 
them next." 

GRACIE WITH THE GOLDEN HAIR. 

Is she not exceeding fair, 
Gracie with the golden hair 
Floating round her, like the haze 
Of the Indian summer days ? 
Just a baby undefiled, 
Dancing, dimpled, darling child! 
Is she not exceeding fair, 
Gracie with the golden hair ? 

Two short years hath Gracie stayed 
In this world of shine and shade, 
And her life has been as blest 
As a young bird's in its nest. 
Shielded safe from want and fear. 
By the hearts which hold her dear, — 
Wholly happy, unaware, — 
Gracie with the golden hair. 



832 Tine TRIANOULAR SOCIETY. 

Ndvor to lu'rscir sho saith, 

" Where foro life?" or "Wherefore death?" 

Grueie leaves these (jueiies dread 

To some graver, older head; 

Longing for no morrow's rays, 

Mourning for no y(!sterdays, 

She hath ncillicr doiilil, nor care, 

Gracie with the golden hair. 

Yet .sometimes a thoughtful sluidc 
Falls athwart the little maid, 
And a tender sadness lies. 
Deep within her gentle eyes; 
J Jut she smiles again ere long, 
Carolling lu^r merriest song, 
Like a sparrow in the air, 
Gracie with Ihe golden hair. 

Gracie hath a cheruh face. 
Full of sweet, unworldly grace; 
Gracic's eyes are tenderest blue, 
Limpid as a drop of dew; 
And her check, so j)ure it shows, 
Scemeth like a fresh white rose. 
Is she not exceeding fair, 
Gracie with the golden luur? 

And if (}racie, though she seems 
Like the shapes in holy dreams. 
Be not quite an angel yet, 
Wlierel'ore sliould \V(! feel regret? 
For our hearts would all be riven, 
Should she lly away to heavcsn; — 
Ah, our souls could never spare 
Gracie with the ifolden hair 1 



THE EIGHTH TRIANGULAR. 333 

"It seems to me that you are Hpcciiilly fond of tliut 
name," said 13run(!tte, "Is tliere a seliool-iiiate called 
Graeie, perliajjH V" 

" Two or three ; and beKide, if tli(;re was n't any, I 
should always l)e fond of the name, and whenever [ 
find a poem about a Graeie, I always save it for my 
scrap-book." 

"You and Brunette have both read about children," 
said tlie mother, " and I have somethin*^ here about a 
poor little colored boy who died down Houth of chills 
and fever, as hundreds of them do every year. And 
no wonder; they have no intelligent care nor nursing, 
and are doctored to death with unfit medicines as soon 
as they are a little ill. But here is the little history." 



NED. 

Who knew of little Ned ? 
Wlio cared a. straw for him, alive or dead? 

Ned, with his ebon face, 
A wretched scion of a wretched race, 

A worthless life gone down 
Unnoticed, in an over-crowded tt^wn. 

Scanty and poor the food 
Ills mother's labor gave her hungry brood, 

Windowlcss, dingy, dim. 
Was the poor hovel which was home to him; 

Improvidence and chance 
llulcd there, with poverty and ignorance. 



334 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Often, as he passed by, 
I smiled again into his smiling eye, 

Or gave, to his delight, 
String for his ball, or paper for his kite, 

And oftentimes, poor Ked! 
That which he needed more than playthings, — bread. 

His poor pretence of dress 
Was worn and rent to utter raggedness, 

Yet in the summer street, 
He played with children gaily dressed and neat. 

Who did not keep in sight 
The bridgeless gulf dividing black and white. 

They shared the self-same plays. 
Bounding and shouting through the sunny days, 

ISTor ever seemed to care 
Which dingy hand, if washed, would be most fair; 

Until the fall of night 
Ended the games which only ceased with light. 

They used to find their rest 
In pleasant homes, with love and jilenty blest, 

Where, all refreshed and soothed, 
Their tired limbs bathed, their tangled tresses 
smoothed. 

They nestled, all the night, 
In cool, soft beds, with pillows dainty white. 

But he, poor little l^ed, 
A heap of tattered rags was all his bed; 

And want and squalor kept 
Watch in the crowded chamber while he slept, — 

The atmosphere defiled 
Poisoning the slumbers of the hapless child. 



THE EIGHTH TRIANGULAR. 335 

He played the summer through, 
And autumn came; Kovember rain-storms blew, 

And in the blasts unkind, 
Shivering, half-clad, the child grew ill and pined. 

Forgot his wonted mirth, 
And cowered all day beside the cheerless hearth. 

Roundness and smiles forsook 
His thinning cheek; a suffering, patient look 

Touched with a piteous grace 
His wide and wistful eyes, his small, dark face; 

As ever asking, " Why ? 
Does life mean only to endure — and die ? " 

Days passed ; and now no more 
He joined the noisy group around the door, 

Yet ever kept in sight 
His sorry playthings — ball and hoop and kite — 

Sighing, " Another day 
I shall be well enough to go and play." 

Alas, poor stricken l^edl 
All night he shivered in his meagre bed, 

And weary day by day 
The fever came and burned his strength away; 

Fate left him naught to choose ; 
A life so wretched was not much to lose. 

Even at his poor life's end, 
He asked for me, — for I had been his friend; 

And with the uttered name, 
His trembling soul went — whither ? — whence it 
came ; 

Some happier sphere to find, 
^VTiere angels, let us hope, are color-blind. 



330 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Small is the meed I claim 
01' worldly graliLiule, or praise, or fame, 

Yet it is somcthinp; worth, 
That he, the poorest, humblest of the earth, 

Passed through death's brief eclipse, 
Beai'iug my name upon his grateful lips. 

Ah, well, what mattered it? 
This poor, pinched soul which no one prized a whit? 

One more small life gone down 
Uncounted, in a sickly southern town; 

Ah, me I I wonder why 
A being so forlorn should live and die ? 

" Now tliat 's altogether too melancholy," said Bob, 
with a sns])icious huskiness in his voice. "What's 
the use to read thing;s that make us feel niiserableV" 

"A little melancholy, occasionally, does no harm," 
said the mother. " We should grow very selfish and 
unfeeling if we were never reminded oi the sufferings 
of others. Wlicn I hear a young woman longing to 
go to Squirrel Island, or the mountains, or Moosehead 
L:ike, or Old Orchard, ' to stay all summer long with- 
out a thing to do,' or a younger boy pining to live 
in a big house with a long pictn re-gal lory, and a large 
library, and a peacock sunning himself outside, it 
seems to me that it would do them no harm to be 
reminde<l of tlie thousands and thousands of i»oor 
souls who are w^orse off than tliemselves." 

Silence reigned for a few minutes; probal)Iy a 
period of wholesome rellection. Brunette si)oke iirst. 

" So lony: as this session seems to be devoted to 



THE EIGHTH Till ANGULAR. 337 

chilrlrcn," she said, " I will read some verses which I 
wrote some time ago about a lovely little hoy whom I 
knew." 

"I hope it does n't turn out tliat he died," said ]>ob. 
" It seems to me th;it all the pretty an<l lovely child r(;n 
die while they are little." 

"My brother IJob is not in the least conceited," 
commented Brunette. 

"Nor specially complimentary to his sister," said 
the mother. " But I don't agree with Bob that all the 
lovely and beautiful childreo die ; a great many of 
them grow up, and become selfish, and naughty, and 
common-looking; and then people forget how sweet 
and charming they used to bo, and presently come to 
believe that all the pretty and angelic ones die young. 
The dear little creatures who die while they are 
babies, or very little children," continued she softly, 
"remain in our memories unchanged; sweet and inno- 
cent, pure, and tender, and loving, forevermore." 

After a little. Brunette said, " Tiiis little boy was 
as sound, healthy, and vigorous as possible. lie had 
long yellow hair, and his eyes were clear aa the sky in 
June. And see how haj)py he was ! " 

WINNIE. 

In a home-nest of peace and joy, 
liright and pleasant as home can be, 

Lives a merry and sweet-faced boy, 
Under a broad old apple tree ; 

15 



338 THE TEIANGULAE SOCIETY. 

Searching wide, you will seldom meet 
Child so blithesome aud fair as he, 

How can he help being pretty and sweet, 
Dwelling under an apple tree ? 

In the spring when the child goes out, 

Glad as a bird that winter 's i^ast, 
Making his flower-beds all about, 

Liking best what he finished last; 
Then the tree from each blossomy limb, 

Heaps its petals about his feet. 
And like a benison over him 

Scatters its fragrances, sweet to sweet. 

He has only to smile and win; 

Face more lovely was never kissed; 
Dear blue eyes and a dimpled chin, 

Curls that dance in a golden mist; 
Circled ever by tenderest care, 

Taught aud guided by love's decree, 
Plow can he help being good and fair, 

Dwelling under an apple tree ? 

In the summer the dear old tree 

Spreads above him its cooling shade. 
Keeping the heat from his cheek while he 

Playing at toil with rake and spade. 
Chasing the humming-birds' gleam and dart, 

Watching the honey-bees drink and doze. 
Gathers in body and soul and heart. 

Beauty and health, like an opening rose. 



THE EIGHTH TKIANGULAK. 339 

In the autumn, before the leaves 

Lose their greenness, the apples fall, 
Eoll on the roof and bounce from the eaves, 

Pile on the porch, and rest on the wall; 
Then he heaps on the grassy ground 

Rosy pyramids brave to see; 
How can he help being rudd}^ and sound, 

Dwelling under an apple tree ? 

In the winter, when winds are wild, 

Then, still faithful, the sturdy tree 
Keejjs its watch o'er the darling child, 

Telling him tales of the May to be ; 
Teaching him faith under storm}- skies. 

Bidding him trust when he cannot see; 
How can he helii being hajipy and wise, 

Dwelling under an apj)le tree ? 



XXX. 

CREEPING THINGS. 

" Brunette, are you afraid of worms ? " asked Bob, 
one day, as Lis sister came in, at supper-time. 

" Afraid of worms ? no ; why should I be ? Worms 
don't often attack human beings. Wliat kind of 
worms?" asked she, as she drew off her gloves. "I 
believe ' a wild worm ' was the cause of Iving Arthur's 
death, but not by biting him. WJiat kind of worms 
do you mean ? " 

" 0, tlie kind that doubles uj) and straightens out 
again, — sort of humps itself when it walks," explained 
Bob ; " the kind that 's crawling over your shoulders, 
and along your skirt, and up your back hair." 

" Take 'em off, take 'em off," cried Brunette, dan- 
cing about in anguish. " I 'm not afraid of worms, 
but I don't like to be crawled on. Take 'em off, 
that 's a dear boy," she pleaded, stooping down so 
that he could reach her head. " They 're those mis- 
chievous span-Avorms, which are eating the lovely elm 
trees all bare, and I suppose there 's a dozen down my 
neck and up my sleeves — ugh ! " 

" I don't see why you call them span-worms," said 
Bob. " /should call 'em spin-worms ; any way, every 
one has a string to him, like a spider, only he never 
340 



CREEPING THINGS. 341 

seems to catch any flies. Here are five of 'em, Bru- 
nette, liold your hanfl, and you can carry 'em up-stairs, 
and make some verses about 'em," continued Bob, 
with sarcastic meaning. lie liad never quite forgiven 
Brunette for her strictures on the epitaph that he liad 
long ago written about John, and had since been apt 
to criticise rather sharply the verses, which from time 
to time she read to her mother, for comment and 
approval, before offering them for publication. But 
she took his present suggestion with the utmost do- 
cility. 

" I never saw so many creeping things about, as 
there are this summer," exclaimed she, presently, dis- 
entanjjclino; a big June-beetle from the lace at her 
wrist. " These great blundering things are every- 
where. The currant-bushes are full of green worms, 
my ivy is covered with mealy-bugs, and my oleander 
crusted with scale-bugs — " 

"I don't call mealy-bugs or scale-bugs 'creeping 
things,' " demurred Bob. " I 've watched them by 
the hour with a magnifier, and they never move." 

" Well any way, they are vermin," amended his 
sister, " and the rose-leaves are being skeletonized by 
a vicious little worm that gnaws tlie under side of 
them, and l^ores into the buds like a gimlet ; and — 
goodness ! here are two weevils in the sugar-bowl ! 
What shall we do ? " 

" Of two weevils, always choose the least," sug- 
gested Bob. " I heard mother tell you that, the other 
day, when you said you believed you 'd rather get 
wet through, than to carry a broken-ribbed umbrella." 



342 THE TRIANGTJLAr. SOCIETY. 

" I believe those little creatures come from the gro- 
cer's," said the mother. " I often find tliem in the 
rice, and lately, sometimes in the sugar, but nowhere 
else. I must speak to Mr. Middleman, or his clerk, 
about them." 

♦'I wisli there were some Mr. Middleman to whom 
you could remonstrate about the beetles, and the rose- 
slugs, and the mealy-bugs, and the scale-bugs, and 
the — caterpillars!'''' almost screamed she, suddenly 
brushing one off the side of licr neck. " O Bob, see 
if there are any more of 'em about rac ! " 

"I don't see any," replied Bob, "and I wonder why 
they are called caterpillows? Is it because they are 
soft ? I 've seen those hard cases that they go into 
Avhen they want to be butterflies," continued he. " I 
suppose those are caterpillow-cases, are n't they ? " 

" I think you are one of the hardest cases I ever 
saw," said his sister, " and you 'd better \)\\X, that cater- 
pillow out to air." 

" I thought," said Bob, " that he would be a nice 
soft subject for a poem." He spoke with dreadful 
satire. But Brunette smiled superior, and an evening 
or two after, she read to him and his motlier the 
following : 

THE SPAN-WORM. 

A MELANCHOLY MEASURE. 

Just at the dawn of the heated term, 
Bogius the reign of tlic measuring worm; 
From the roadside branches he spins and swings, 
Hanging and wriggling on gossamer strings; 



CREEPING THINGS. 343 

Lengthening slowly the swaying threads, 

He drops and clings on the passers' heads, 

And, happy as in his native leaves, 

Crawls under their collars and up their sleeves, — 

Or, reaching tlie ground with a sudden jei'k, 

Collects his wits and begins his work. 

A singular fondness the creature shows 
For measuring every step he goes; 
Stretching at length, he halts and dreams, 
Then brings together his two extremes, 
(Like a withered tendril curled and brown, 
Or a letter U turned upside down,) 
Then reaching forward his length once more, 
And doubling up as he did before, 
He measures the fences, the ground, the wall, 
"Wherever he happens to swing or fall. 
And seems to add u]) the distance sped. 
And keep the reckoning in his head. 

Think of the labor to count and count. 
Add all together and keep the amount ! 
Think of his rage, when a footstep's fall 
Startles and makes him forget it all, 
And he with wearisome toil and pain. 
Must measure the space all over again I 

Most uncivil of engineers. 

What do you care for tar or tears ? 

In every curtain of leaves you lurk. 

And ply your dreadful dimension- work; 

Credulous folly it is to think 

Of barring your jirogress with printer's ink; 

How shall we check, evade or flee 

Your geometrical industry ? 



344 THE TEIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

When island parties go down the bay, 
You vex and trouble the hapjiy day; 
When thirst distresses or hunger mocks 
The seeker of shells and scaler of rocks, 
You twist and wriggle and squirm and roll 
In the tempting midst of his chowder-bowl; 
Happy he, if its lowest dregs 
Be not made up of your skin and legs. 

Geometrid, perform your will; 

Compass the width of the window-sill, 

Crawl on the table, if you wish, 

In butter-cooler and sugar-dish; 

Measure the pillow-case at night, 

But keep from the elms your gnawing blight; 

In the words by George P. Morris sung 

To the man with a hatchet, when time was young, 

O worm of the genus Pkalcenidce, 

Inch-worm insatiate, spare that tree I 



" I like that pretty well," said Bob, patronizingly, 
"only I don't believe tliey ever keejD any reckoning." 

" And I 'm afraid you will be thrown out of your 
reckoning, Brunette," said the mother, " if you expect 
any editor in town to accept that. The Portland 
papers are eminently sedate and sensible ; they rarely 
admit anything trifling to their columns. In a State 
which produces so many great men, life is a serious 
matter." 

*' Very well," said Brunette, " if they don't like 
that, I '11 try tliem with this." 



CREEPING THINGS. 345 

V 

THE CATERPILLAR. 

The caterpillar gnaws his way 

The mellow summer through, 
And though he spoils the cabbage-plants, 

And rasps the rose-buds, too. 
He has some small redeeming traits, 

Albeit but a few. 

With numerous acquaintances. 

He is not rich in friends; 
Ko personal attractiveness 

To him its glamour lends; 
About the middle he is brown, 

And black at both the ends. 

So, though his foes, the gardeners. 

May swear about his sins. 
One beauty of his character 

Our approbation wins, — 
The virtue of consistency — 

He ends as he begins ! 

Should lifted foot or hoe approach, 

To crush him for his crimes. 
Or should a sudden shower o- 

vertake him where he climbs. 
He rolls himself into a ball, 

And waits for better times. 

How fortunate, could larger lives 

But learn this simple feat — 
Could we achieve, when on our heads 

Financial tempests beat, 
The grace and skill which he displays 

In making both ends meet I 
15* 



346 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

He wears liis furs all through dog-days, 

Despite the sultriness, 
But when the frosty weather comes — 

Strange metamorphosis I — 
He throws his fuzzy coat aside, 

A naked chrysalis. 

Because his favorite leaves have lost 

Their juice and flavoring, 
He leaves off eating, in a huff, 

Eschewing everything — 
Gives over crawling, goes to bed, 

And snoozes there till spring I 

"When Panic fills the stoutest heart 

With bodings dark and dire. 
How cheap and pleasant it would be, 

If we could thus retire 
And pass the winter, with no need 

Of food, or clothes, or flre 1 

But while he keejis his humble place 

Among the creeping things, 
Threatened by every passer-by 

With being crushed to strings, 
Do you suppose the creature dreams 

About his future wings ? 

And when he spins his snug cocoon, 

And bids his legs good by, 
Does he make peace with all the world, 

And tuck him up to die ? 
Or just intend to sleep awhile. 

And wake a butterfly ? 

" Now I like that," said Bob ; " but it 's late, and 
I 'm afraid that I shall neither ' wake a butterfly,' nor 
anything else in season, if we don't adjourn." 



XXXI. 

ENVY AND AMBITION. 

"Mother! " said Brunette, as she came up into the 
sitting-room, and threw herself on a hassock at her 
mother's feet. She was tired with her day's confined 
work, and warm with her long walk since. She looked 
flushed and weary, her crimps had " gone crazy," as 
Bob said, and her back hair had broken loose from its 
pins. 

" Mother, I believe there are more jealousies and 
envyings in a newspaper-office, than in any other place 
of the size in the world, or among the same number 
of people anywhere." 

" Brunette," said her mother, aghast, " whom do 
you envy, pray ? and of whom is my usually contented 
daughter jealous?" 

" I envy no one but you, mother," said Brunette, re- 
covering her good-nature. " I have sometimes reflected 
on your happiness in possessing so sweet-tempered, 
accomplished and every way dutiful a child as I am. 
But J was n't reckoning myself in my estimate. I am 
not ' in the regular line of descent,' or ascent, in the 
office. The astute foreman long ago decided, and 
whispered it about among the others, that ' no woman 
ought to have a place of so much importance ' as 

347 



348 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

mine, altliough my wages are smaller than his. I am 
a sort of interloper, and out of the succession. But 
in every newspaper office, the office-boy who runs 
errands and sweeps, thinks he ought to be an appren- 
tice in the composing-room ; the apprentice, after a 
few weeks, is sure that he can ' set ' as well as a jour- 
neyman, and ought to be promoted and have regular 
wages ; the oldest ' hand ' knows he is quite competent 
to take the foreman's place, and is not slow to hint 
that he deserves it ; the foreman is confident that he 
would make an excellent local editor, and thinks it 's 
about time he had a lift; the local editor fancies it 
would be much pleasanter sitting at the news editor's 
desk all day, dry and comfortable, than racing all 
about town in the rain or snow, chasing the elusive 
item ; and the news editor feels himself to be fully 
cai)able of taking entire charge, ' running the paper,' 
and being chief editor. You see this feeling in all of 
them, but the women-compositors — they know there 
is no promotion for them, and they do tlieir work will- 
ingly and quietly, and mind their own affairs." 

"And whom does the chief editor envy?" asked 
the mother. 

" Nobody can guess what flights his ambition may 
take," rei)lied Brunette, "if he ever finds time to fly 
it at all. Perhaps he completes the circle, and wishes 
he were the errand-boy, with no responsibility, and 
suj'c j)ay every Saturday night. Perhaps he would 
like to be the mayor and aldermen, and decide how to 
spend the money that other people have earned, and 



ENVY AND A]Nn3ITI0N. 349 

sit in a barouche and look handsome, in the Fom-th of 
July parades ; perhaps he dreams how nice it would 
be to be city marshal, and ride a higli-stepping horse, 
that always goes sideways in all the processions — " 

"What makes 'em do that?" asked Bob, looking 
up from his water-colors. " Last time there was a 
parade, I saw one of those great horses prance back- 
ward, all the way from City Hall to the First Parish 
church, in spite of all his rider could do. O, how red 
he was in the face ! " 

" Which, the horse or his rider ? " asked his sister, 
Avho did not like to be interrupted, looking sharply at 
him. " Perhaps, I was going to say, the chief editor 
would like to be a small boy, with blue eyes and fair 
hair, relieved by a stripe of Venetian red across his 
forehead, and a patch of chrome green on his left 
cheek, with all his things bought for him, and all his 
work done, and nothing to do himself but smudge his 
clothes with paint, and waste his sister's drawing- 
paper." 

" Well, any way," began Bob, proceeding sheepishly 
to gather up his pencils, and accidentally knocking his 
box of paints off the table, and scattering its contents 
on the carpet, " any way — " 

" There, Bob," said his sister, " you 've struck your 
colors, and now you 'd better go below, and relieve 
your obscured complexion at the wash-bowl." 

"Any way," persisted Bob, with only his head A'isi- 
ble at the closing door, " the horse was red in the 
face, too, because he was a red-all-over horse, so 
there now ! " 



XXXII. 

A PLUMBERS' RECEPTION. 

" MoTnKR," said Brunette, as the family sat down 
to supper one evening, " you look dreadfully tired. 
Has anything happened to you since I went away this 
morning?" 

Bob had been out playing ever since he came home 
from school, and had hardly seen his mother. But 
now he looked np and remarked, " Why, you look as 
though you had been crying." 

"Crying? no indeed. On the contrary, I have been 
liolding a reception." 

" A reception ? " repeated Brunette, in amazement. 
" Why was n't I invited ? " 

"Because you 're not a plumber. It was a plumb- 
ers' reception." 

"O, I see; you've been calling in medical aid for 
that gasping and wheezing pump in the kitchen," said 
Brunette, brightening. " Well, I 'm glad of that. 
But how did it tire you out so? " 

" I '11 tell you the day's history just as accurately as 
I can," said the mother, " and not exaggerate a single 
statement, though it is quite possil)le that I may leave 
out something, among so many details. You know 
that with two pumps in the house, I had for weeks 
350 



A plumbers' reception. 351 

been obliged to pump ten minutes, pouring water 
down at intervals, every time I wanted a dipper-full 
of water." 

"We ought to move into a house where there 's 
Sebago water," suggested Bob. 

" "Well, human patience gave out, at last, and last 
week I had a conference with a plumber, who prom- 
ised to be on hand ' bright and early Monday morn- 
ing.' The heater in the dining-room needed over- 
hauling, and it was agreed that the plumber should do 
both jobs. 

"' Now,' said I, as impressively as I could, ' I don't 
want you to say yon '11 come unless you are sure^ 
because I don't want to take \ip my carpets until you 
can do the work.' Yes, he was sure. 

" So, as you know, I was up before day, yesterday, 
got the curtains down, had the carpet taken uj?, and 
waited, and waited, and kept waiting; no sign of a 
man. Noon and night came, but he did n't; one day 
lost." 

"I never in my life," said Brunette, "knew a case 
in which a plumber, or a glazier, or a painter, or a 
locksmith, or a gardener, or a stove-man, kept an 
appointment." 

" Or a paper-hanger, or a white-washer, or a carpet- 
beater, or a man to carry away the ashes — " 

" Or anybody else," said Bob, " and when I get to 
be a man, I 'm going to learn all those trades, and 
make it a rule to keep every appointment I make ; 
and you see if I don't get everybody's custom." 



852 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

"You'll have your Lands full, and be a general 
favorite," said tlic mother. " Well, this morning, 
about nine o'clock, my plumber came, three of him. 
Two large men and a large boy. The boy, I suppose, 
was Avhat they call a 'helper,' but he was a great hin- 
drance to me. The large boy and the larger man 
called the smaller man 'l)oss.' The boss sat down on 
the floor before the heater, and asked rae if the young 
lady that he saw ])assing his place every day, was my 
daughter. "^I'lien I said it Avas quite possible, and 
asked him if there was any very serious trouble Avith 
the heater. Then he looked into the ash-pan, and 
asked me if the young lady and the little boy were 
my only children. I admitted that they were, and 
inquired how long it Avould take to regulate the 
heater. Tlien he remarked that it was n't common to 
sec two children in the same family with so much dif- 
ference between their ages, and was going on to ask 
me if I was step-mother to the elder one, when I 
remarked that it was a fine day, and I hoped the job 
could be finished so that I could go down town in the 
afternoon, Tlien he opened the heater door and 
remarked tliat I seemed to have 'a great many nice 
I flowers about.' Then he drew out a damper and 
observed that he had two children who were fond 
of flowers, and one of them Avas extremely smart at 
school, and he liad six children in all, and was very 
fond of 'em. Tliat mollified me a little, and I 
remarked that it was hajjpicr for children to have 
brothers and sisters than to be brought up alone. 



A plumbers' reception. 353 

Then he said lie did n't know ; among so many, war 
was declared rather too often. 

" Then I left him and went to the kitchen, where the 
otlier man wanted a screw-driver, and a pail of water 
and a piece of sand-paper, and a hammer if I had 
one. Then the first man called me back perempto- 
rily, and said he must have a shovel, and a coal-hod^ 
and some newspaj>ers, and kindling-wood, and a brush 
and dust-pan. Then the large boy called me into the 
kitchen, and wanted a hatchet and some old news- 
papers, and a dipper, and a juckknife to whittle some- 
thing for the boss. 

" Then the second man discovered that he had no 
valves of the right size for a small pump, and wanted 
a piece of leather to make one. Then I told him I 
did not keep sole-leather in stock, and he said ho 
should have to charge me for his time if he went down 
town to get leather. Then I happened to remember 
that I bought an extra valve tlie last time the pump 
was repaired, and after some search I found it, and he 
fitted it in the pump. 

"Then the first man wanted a saw and the stove- 
cleaner and a piece of Ijarrel-hoop. By this time the 
large boy wanted a little grease in a cup for the second 
man, who also wanted a piece of rag to clean a solder- 
ing iron, and a pail and a match and a nail or two ; 
and he said the old valve was as good as ever, and so 
he pocketed the new one ; at any rate it disappeared. 

" Finally the first man concluded that nothing ailed 
the heater but ashes in the flue, and made the large 



354 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

boy get down on the whites of his eyes and pull 
ashes all over the room. Then the second man went 
down cellar to lengthen the waste-pipe, and wanted a 
piece of lead Jiipe to do it with. Then I remembered 
about three feet of lead pij^e which was left when I 
had the bath-tub set, and I got it for him. Then he 
said he wanted a shorter piece, and sent the large boy 
down town for it, while he and the boss sat around 
and conversed on general topics until the large boy 
and the small ])iece of pipe returned, — asking me ques- 
tions whenever I came within reach. Just then the 
landlord arrived, and I asked him if he had come to 
the party. He said he was fond of a frolic, and I told 
him he might go in and sit on the dining-table and 
pi-eside at the meeting. 

" The men had another job at the next house, and so 
kejit going and coming, and every time they went out 
or in, they left the gate open for the dogs to come in 
and bury bones in the flower-beds ; and I went out 
fifteen times and closed it. 

" When the large boy returned, business recom- 
menced. The first man told me patronizingly, that I 
could clean up the ashes a great deal better than he 
could, and after I had done it, he would replace the 
bolts in the heater. After three hours of this sort of 
exercise, they picked up their tools and left, and I 
was glad to see the last of them, although they carried 
off the new pump-valve, which I shall have to replace 
presently, and in some way that I can't understand, 
actually spirited away also the three feet of new lead 



A plumbers' reception. 355 

pipe "which they refused to use down-stairs. And such 
a plight as these rooms were in ! The dining-room 
was full of ashes, the kitchen slopped and littered 
from end to end, and on trying the kitchen pump I 
found that it 'ran down' just the same as before. 
Never, while I live, will I have another plumbers' 
reception. If a plumber must come, I will make it 
convenient to go visiting that day." 

'• I don't wonder you 're tired," said Brunette, with 
a long breatli, " See what I escape by being a ' sala- 
ried servant ' ! " 

"Lucky they did n't set the house afire," said Bob. 
" I heard Mr. Brier say, the other day, when his office 
came near burning, that a plumber always sets a house 
on fire." 

" No," said tlie mother, " not when he puts the 
heater fire out, and keeps the kitchen under water, as 
this one did," 

" And you 're not done with your plumber yet," 
said Brunette, reassuringly. " I suppose he did n't 
leave his bill?" 

" I forgot to say," replied the mother, " tliat I asked 
him to send his bill straight back to me as soon as he 
reached home, as I don't like these little affairs to 
wait. Sure enough, the boy brought it back — a 
detailed account — and do you believe that the 
plumber had actually charged me for the new pump- 
valve, and a number of pounds of lead pipe ? " 

It had been a very tiresome day for all the family ; 



356 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

the reception of the governor's address had made 
extra work at the office ; Bob had had his afflictions 
at school in tlie shape of preliminary examinations ; 
and the mother, as she had said, was quite fatigued by 
the day's experiences. After sujjper was over, Bob 
remarked : 

" We are all so tii-ed to-night that I suppose we '11 
have to put off the Society meeting until to-morrow 
evening, and so I 'm going to read you a riddle, and 
then go to bed, and leave you to guess it." 



A FAMILIAR ACQUAINTANCE. 

I speak without a vocal sound, 

I fly without a wing; 
I roam the world's wide regions round, 

And visit clown and king. 
I 'm welcomed by the good and great ; 

I 'm trodden in the mire ; 
I kindle high and wise debate. 

Likewise the kitchen fire. 

I have more heads than hydras boast, 

More points than they have scales; 
More letters than the gray-clad ghost 

"Who carries round the mails; 
I hold the eye of sage and fop. 

Of joy and misery. 
And often, in the grocer's shop, 

His dabs of starch and tea. 



A PLUMBEES' RECEPTION. 357 

I whisper all that may be told, 

To all who will attend ; 
I point the path to fame and gold 

As soon to foe as friend; 
And often with remorseless might 

I bring to beggary 
The struggling and too sanguine wight 

Who made and fostered me. 

" If Brunette does n't guess that," said Bob, as he 
Bhut himself out, " it will be because she does n't 
understand her business." 



XXXIII. 

COLEUS. 

Brunette had a great fondness for animals ; she 
had a speaking acqnaintance with every dog and cat 
which resided between her lionie and the office ; and 
she could liardly refrain from patting the nose of every 
horse whicli stood waiting by the curb-stone, as she 
passed up and down on her daily walk. She was the 
patron saint of vagabond cats and dogs; indeed, so 
often did slie stop on her morning's walk down-town, 
to divide her frugal lunch with some hungry-looking, 
quadruped that slunk along the sidewalk, or skulked 
in the shadows of the fences, that she rarely found 
anything more than half a cracker in her basket at 
noon. 

Bob declared that the more miserable a cat was, the 
better she liked it. She admitted every feline tramp 
that came into the yard ; and so often had she brought 
home a starved and perishing kitten in her handker- 
chief, that her mother dreaded the sight of a small 
white bundle, and frankly said so. So Brunette varied 
the matter by doing her cats up in a piece of news- 
paper; and when the novelty was worn off this 
method, she unblushingly brought them home in a 
grocer's j)aper bag. Some of these pensioners were so 
358 



coLEus. 359 

far gone, Ijefore Brunette's providence smiled on tliem, 
that they died, despite her care ; some of them were 
of so thoroughly vagabond blood, that they ran away 
thanklessly as soon as they were strong enough, and 
never appeai'ed again. 

The mother bore these deaths and disappearances 
with fortitude, remarking that but for them, the house 
would be simply one vast asylum for decayed cats. 
As it was, there Avas never a dearth of feline society. 
Bob generally claimed the j^rivilege of naming these 
pensioners ; and Brunette never knew which puzzled 
her most, the ingenuity with which he hunted up 
botanical names for them, or the facility with which 
he taught them to respond to their high-sounding 
titles. 

At one time, the household possessed four cats. 
One of them, a large old tortoise-shell, beautifully 
marked with yellow and black, which had been 
mature in wickedness long before she came into 
Bob's hands, came readily to the name of Coleus 
Verschaffeltii ; a younger and more amiable specimen 
answered to the call for Amaranthus Tricolor, (she 
was black, white, and yellow) ; a third, chiefly yellow, 
was known as Aureus Superbus ; and a smaller spot- 
ted one was happy in the name of Nemophila Macu- 
lata. These elaborate names were sometimes, for 
convenience, shortened respectively to Colie, Ammie, 
Aurie, and Xemmie ; and when they were uttered 
rapidly in Bob's brisk and exigent voice, the owners 
would break all barriers, and hasten from all distances 
to respond. 



360 . THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Coleus was a very unusual type of cat. She was 
evidently very well stricken in years when she 
appeared at the back door of this unlucky family, and 
insisted on being recognized as a member. Brunette 
for once, declared that the animal was too old to be 
adopted ; that she would as soon think of adopting a 
hero of the Revolution, or one of the twenty nice old 
gentlemen who are each " the oldest Mason in the 
United States." But the cat smiled superior to all 
the darts of sarcasm, and was presently the tyrant of 
the establishment. She took a fancy to a certain 
cushioned sewing-chair, which had been the special 
property of the mother ; and thereafter, if the owner 
accidentally sat down in it when the cat was in the 
house, Coleus would go and stand squarely before her, 
with eyes flashing yellow displeasure, and her tail 
lashing violently to and fro, so swiftly and angrily that 
Bob declared he could "actually hear the swish of 
it." And the mother would gather up her sjjools and 
scissors, and move meekly into another chair. If 
Coleus obtained the chair first, and any one of the 
family paused before it, as though meditating taking a 
seat, Coleus would raise her head and growl like a dis- 
tant thunder-storm. Bob declared that she was a 
regular watch-cat, and answered every purpose of a 
mastiff. Being accustomed to this household, which 
boasted no masculinity but fair-cheeked Bob, the cat 
soon looked upon all men as natural enemies, and 
whenever a tramp, a grocer's man, or any individual 
of the unj)opular sex, approached the door, she would 



COLEUS. 361 

advance, growling, to meet him, with her tail like the 
brush of a carpet-sweeper. 

Nor was Coleus over amiable to her best friends. 
She had occasional periods of ill-temper, when nothing 
would conciliate her ; when she would, without the 
least j^rovocation, scratch or bite the kind hand that 
was patting her head, or smoothing her mottled sides. 
Then she would retreat under a chair, and every time 
her benefactors passed by her, would reach out and 
scratch at their garments. Branette declared that it 
was like walking though a brier patch, to go by her 
when she was in this fi-ame of mind. 

Coleus also departed so far from the traditions of her 
kind, as to refuse to recognize catnip, while she showed 
a marvellous taste for sweets. In vain, when she 
seemed a little dumpish and under the weather, did 
Bob " exhibit " fresh green leaves of the mystic herb, 
gathered from a solitary plant which he kept growing 
in the back yard, by dint of building round it a solid 
palisade of broken curtain-sticks and all the suitable 
slivers of kindling-wood which he could find. Coleus 
Bniffed disdainfully at the fragrant offering, and then 
looked absently toward the Sandwich Islands. Bob 
asserted that she was fond of cookies, and would not 
druik fresh milk unless it was sweetened. Which 
when Brunette doubted, the mother came to Bob's 
assistance. " Any time," said she, " Coleus will turn 
from a saucei'-full of the rich creamy fluid for which 
the groceries and milk-carts of Portland are so justly 



16 



362 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

colohratcfl, to \ap cnGjcrly at a dissolvorl spoonful of 
llie condensed lacteal fluid, patented and put up in tin 
cans l)y Gail Ham — T mean Gail Borden." 

" No doubt," said Brunette ; " even the cat has sense 
enough to ])refer condensed milk to extended. It 
is n't the sugar she cares for, it 's the milk. AVhy, the 
other day wlien I called on Mrs. Naylor, she told me 
that that very morning, in the bottom of her milk- 
measure, she found a nice little mucilaginous mass of 
frog's eggs I " 

" Her milkman's cows must feed in a veiy swampy 
pasture," rej)lied the mother. "But the cat really 
does like sweets, l)ecause the other evening, she jumi)ed 
on the table and stole a generous lump of Bob's 
molasses candy, and carried it under the stove and ate 
it, to the great embarrassment and confusion of her 
whiskers, I notit^ed." 

"Whiskers and molasses cnnd j don'' t seem to bo 
made for each other," said Brunette, musingly. " Do 
you remember when I had that candy-pnil, how that 
sentimental youth with the light moustache — " 

" Don't revive unpleasant memories. Brunette. 
What are you scolding about. Bob i"' 

" I was only saying," said Bob, with an injured air, 
"that when the cat ate the molasses candy, she got 
her paws all stuck u[) with it, and then she tried to 
run away from 'em, and juinped up on the sofa, and 
when Brunette sat down there, she just accused me 
of mussing the cushion with my candy, and when I 



COLEUS. 363 

told lier it was the cat, she was vexecl, ami callcrl hotli 
of us fictitious names. A boy has a hard time of it, 
in tills Family," muttered IJob. 

" Called you fictitious names ! " echoed the mother, 
" what did she call you?" 

" She said I was a humbug, and the cat was a scape- 
goat," said Bob, his bosom swelling with the remem- 
brance of his wrongs. " I 've been called a humbug 
too many times not to know what that means," he 
Avent on, gloomily, " but I 'd like to know what like- 
ness there is between a cat and a goat." 

A few mornings after, Brunette had reason, she 
admitted, to change her mind with regard to the cat's 
liking for sweet things. While IJrunette was engaged 
in setting the tal)le for breakfast, she discovered a 
couple of diminutive rodents in the milk-pitcher, 
drowned as dead as the traditional door-nail. Pres. 
ently she summoned her mother and Bob to witness 
her change of opinion. 

" I said I did n't believe Coleus cared for sweets," 
said she, " but I take it all back. There she is, before 
breakfast, actually partaking, with evident relish, of 
some mice-cream ! " 



XXXIY. 
A GOOD FRIEND. 

Of course, when Toby ceased to be a vagabond, 
came into the fold of respectability, and was duly 
accredited with a master, a local habitation, and a 
name, it was necessary that he be invested with a 
collar and a tax bill, and recognized as one of the 
solid dogs of Portland. Toby made no apparent 
objection tothe tax-certificate, wliicli Brunette carefully 
hung on the wall above his bed, in the office library, 
excepting to sniff at the misspelling of his name in it, 
and several other little eccentricities of orthography, 
to which she called his attention. " Although the 
city of Portland may sanction the spelling of your 
name with an e in the last syllable, it fortunately hap- 
pens that it has no jurisdiction over the orthography 
of the Adviser oflSce," she said, " and do you see to 
it, Toby, that you never authorize such an inno- 
vation." 

But Toby strenuously objected to wearing a collar, 
offering no violence when he perceived what was 
intended, but expressing the most decided repugnance 
to the new decoration. When at last it was locked 
around his neck, and he was taken out to walk, by a 
select party of his friends, to exhibit his adornment, 
364 



A GOOD FEIEND. 3G5 

he went in the most sheepish manner, as one who 
should say, " I protest against this jingling thing, and 
I wish it understood that I consider it a great draw- 
back to my personal appearance." He shook his head 
violently to dislodge it; he scraped at it furiously 
with his hind leg ; he turned round and round in try- 
ing to reach it with his mouth ; and failing in every 
attempt, he started to run away from it, and ran until 
he was quite blown and breathless. After trying this 
a few times, he had a bright thought ; he sat down 
solidly on the sidewalk, expressing in every line of his 
body that he was waiting for the collar to go by with 
the rest of the party, and leave him. 

Toby was an unusually amiable and tractable dog. 
lie learned easily, and never forgot what he once 
le;irned. It was a pleasure to teach him, because as 
soon as he really understood what he was desired to 
do, he did it, not only with cheei-fulness, but with evi- 
dent delight. If he had enjoyed the benefits of a 
liberal education in his youth, he would doubtless 
have made his mark upon his times. No one knew 
how old he was when Brunette found him, a wretched, 
friendless outcast, shivering in the street ; but he then 
appeared to have no accomplishments whatever, 
although he was extremely quick to understand what 
Avas said to him. 

When his master was out of town. Brunette fre- 
qiiently took Toby home with her to remain over 
night, or over Sunday, and on these occasions, used 
sometimes to devote a little time in the evening to his 



366 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

education. First, she taught him to speak when he 
wanted food or water. Taking a small lump of sugar 
in her fingers, she held it over his head, saying, ener- 
getically, " Speak, Toby ! speak ! and you shall have 
it ! " Over and over she repeated this exhortation, 
while Toby, utterly unconscious of her meaning, sat 
attentively regarding the sugar, fully expecting that 
when she had finislied her monotonous remarks, she 
would drop it into his mouth. Nobody counted the 
number of times this was done ; until finally, a grain 
of sugar crum'oled from the lump and fell directly 
into one of Toby's nostrils. At once he sneezed. 
Brunette immediately gave him the lumji, and joraised 
him without stint; and when another lump was held 
up, he sneezed vociferously, and obtained that also. 
Ilis feigned sneezes were extremely funny, and cost 
him very evident effort ; and after awhile, he either 
barked accidentally in his endeavors to sneeze, or con- 
cluded that it was easier to bark than to sneeze ; and 
never failed thereafter to " speak " with a clear, sharp 
bark, whenever he desired food or drink. At the 
office, he would "speak" to the Sebago faucet, until he 
attracted attention ; at the house, lie would sit and 
converse Avith the kitchen pump until some one came 
to his assistance. He had a great fancy for sitting 
on a chair like other people; and always in the even- 
ing, would walk about, restless and dissatisfied, until 
a chair was ])laced for him in the family circle, when 
he would immediately occupy it, and listen with evi- 
dent interest to the conversation of his friends. 



A GOOD FRIEND. 367 

Whenever he was at the house over Sunday, or at 
any meal-time, a chair and plate were always placed 
for liim at the dining-table. He sat up in his chair 
gravely, wlien the rest of the family gathered about 
the table, and ate, neatly and with perfectly good 
manners, whatever was placed upon his plate. He 
never put his knife in his mouth, or used it to help 
himself to butter. lie never talked with his mouth 
full. He never found fault with the preparation or 
temperature of the various dishes, or made significant 
remarks about his mother's style of cookery. Some- 
times, if his plate remained empty too long, he would 
speak up sharply to remind his hostess of his pres- 
ence; but he never trespassed on the other i:)lates, or 
tried to obtain anything which was not distinctly 
given him. His great delight was a saucer of milk 
for dessert, which he would drink very tidily, without 
sj)illing a drop ; and if at any time he caught sight of 
the sugar-bowl, he would " speak " for a spoonful of 
sugar, which he devoured with evident relish. He 
learned, also, to shake hands with propriety, and fre- 
quently surprised acquaintances who stooped to pat 
his head, b}' cordially offering them his paw. 

It often happened, after these little visits home with 
Brunette, that when he went with her to the office in 
the morning, he found, to his surprise, his master 
already established at his desk. After a time, he 
seemed to reason from this fact, that liis master prob- 
ably arrived home by a midnight train, and that he, 
Toby, ought to have been there to meet and welcome 



8G8 THE TIUANGULAK SOCIETY. 

Jiiin, tSo tlicrc.'iftcr, Toby refused to go l)omc with 
lii-unettc (luring Iiis master's absences, but would excuse 
hiniseU' amiably, and insist on remaining in the count- 
ing-room ; or, if JJrunette succeeded in coaxing liim a 
little way, he would return and take ui> his position on 
the ollice door-stej). lie was strengtliened in this 
liabit by the fact that his master did sometimes come 
on a midnight train, and so reward liis loving faith. 
Often, during these watches, Toby would join the 
Federal street jjoliceman in a friendly way, and accom- 
pany liini on his lonely beat in a sort of sociable 
silence which was jtleasanter to both than utter soli- 
tude. Especially W(MiId he do this when the midnight 
train failed to bring him his beloved friend ; and the 
poor faithful doggie, his long vigil ail in vain, was 
found shivering an<l crest-fallen on the door-step 
when the early boy came to start the fire in the 
engine-room. 

Toby soon learned that a certain leather satchel 
always accompanied liis master's journeys ; whenever 
that satchel appeai-ed, Toby knew tliat lie was to be 
left alone ; his head and tail dro()i)ed, and he went into 
silent and sorrowful I'ctirement. One day his master 
returned from a journey when "^I'oby was out, and, 
hearing the dog coming up stairs, concealed himself 
bcliiiid a book-case. Tol)y, unsusj)ecting, came into 
tlie room and ])rej)ai-ed for a nap ; but ha])pening to 
catch sight of tiie satchel on the table, he s[)rang upon 
liis hind feet, snuffed at it, barked joyfully, and pres- 
ently discovered the arrival. 



A GOOD FRIEND. 369 

Although Toby was not above the average size of 
his breed, he appeared to imagine that he weighed a 
ton. In the first months of his adoption, he would 
tremble with apprehension if he were jjlaced on a 
table, evidently fearing that it would break down 
under him. And he steadfastly refused, for a long 
time, to trust himself on the railed bridge which led 
from the counting-room across the basement press- 
room to the rear door of the office, and which was 
amply able to sustain the weight of a rhinoceros. 
But if this exaggerated notion of his own ponderosity 
made him thus " afraid of that which is high," it 
appeared to augment his courage in other directions, 
for no dog, even were he as largo as a calf, was too 
large for Toby to tackle, if he caught it intruding 
witliin the sacred precincts of the office. Toby spe- 
cially detested large black dogs ; their size and their 
color seemed to offend him, and he would hurl himself 
against a black dog four times liis size, with impetu- 
osity and fearlessness enough for an elephant. Ho 
objected, also, to a rapidly-moving carriage, or to a 
horse urged to his best speed ; and never failed to 
rush out and bark at any passing vehicle or equestrian 
that exceeded his notions of proper dignity of move- 
ment. All the entreaty, instruction, discipline and 
threatening in the Avorld, could never cure Toby of 
this bad haljit, which was deplored by all his friends, 
both because it was annoying to passers-by, and 
because it was feared that some justly-offended trav- 
eller might sometime revenge himself on poor Toby, 



370 THE TEIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

whose moral character was otherwise excellent, these 
two antipathies being his only failings. 

Instead of being overrated, as j^ets are apt to be, 
there is reason to think that Toby knew a good deal 
more than he liad credit for. Ilis exhibitions of sense 
and sagacity sometimes astonished even his most appi'e- 
eiative friends. One morning when Brunette, by reason 
of guests or errands, was somewhat belated, and did 
not roach the office at the usual time, a lady who had 
sometimes called on her at her home, and had there a 
speaking acquaintance witli Toby, although she did 
not suj^pose he would recognize her anywhere else, 
came to the office witli some message for Brunette. 
Slio had never been there previously, and was puzzling 
between the two street-doors, one of wliich led to the 
counting-room, and the other up stairs to the editorial 
rooms. Toby, who had come to the door to meet 
Brunette, as was his custom, at once recognized the 
visitor, and aj^parently knew whom she was seeking, 
and understood her dilemma. lie led her to the stair- 
way door, and as she 02:)ened it, he ran up stairs, paus- 
ing and looking back to induce her to follow. She did 
so, and he piloted her through the composing-roora 
and the large editorial room to the library where were 
Brunette's desk and chair, and, by a lively pantomime, 
indicated to her that she should sit down and wait. lie 
made his meaning so plain tliat she understood him 
perfectly, and seated herself at his invitation to wait 
for Brunette, who presently arrived, "just as Toby said 
she would," declared the admiring visitor ; while he, 



A GOOD FRIEND. 371 

wagging his tail and smiling at the success of his plan, 
left the two to their conversation, and went down to 
attend to his duties in the counting-room. 

It was quite evident tliat Tol)y, up to the time of 
his adoption into the Adviser office, had never seen a 
street-car ; and his first introduction to one was 
extremely funny. He was accompanying his master 
one day on a long tramp up-town, when that gentle- 
man chanced to fall once more into the oft-repeated 
error of fancying that to ride on the horse-railway 
might save time. So he hailed a car, which Toby did 
not seem to notice, until just as his master was step- 
jDing in, when he jDrepared to follow, but was peremp 
torily shut out. This did not much surprise Toby, as 
he took the car for a house, where he supposed his 
master was making a call ; and under such circum- 
stances, Toby had been frequently requested to 
remain outside, on the steps, on account of the unrea- 
sonable prejudices of persons who objected to four- 
toed tracks on the liall carpet, and ginger-colored 
dog's-haii'S on the parlor hearth-rug. Remembering 
these things, Toby sat himself resignedly down on the 
stejDS of this small house also, to wait until his master 
should come out. He was considerably astonished 
when he was kicked off by a loud-voiced and unpleas- 
ant young man who was busy with a couple of feeble- 
looking horses in the front yard; so busy, indeed, 
that he paid not the slightest attention to two women, 
wlio were hurrying and shaking their umbrellas 
toward liim from a side street, in the hope of attract- 
ini:>: his notice. 



372 THE TEIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

But while Toby stood looking anxiously up at the 
window, against which he could see tlie back of his 
beloved master's head, he was thunder-struck to see 
the house suddenly moving along up the street. Toby 
could not believe his eyes ; the house, with his friend 
in it, was actually moving away from him ! Toby felt 
weak in his knees. He sat down, despite the mud 
and the multitude, in the middle of the street, and 
watched the receding edifice. He did not attemj^t to 
follow it ; he would as soon have thought of following 
a wliirlwiud or an earthquake. Roused at last from 
his trance of painful aranzement by a four-horse team 
which threatened to trample him into sausage-meat, 
poor Toby pulled himself together, and went slowly 
and dejectedly back to the office, thinking, probably, 
that his master had been translated, if not by means 
of " a chariot of fire and horses of fire," at least by as 
near an approach to them as Portland and the nine- 
teenth century could furnish, and in a manner quite 
as inexplicable to him. He gave up his customary 
business-like interest and oversight, and betook him- 
self to the darkest corner of the library, where, in 
company with a dusty pair of rubbers, the Indian 
clubs v/ith which his master was wont to keep his 
muscle on a war footing, and an old umbrella retired 
on half-pay, he lay with his mouth in the dust, reject- 
ing all consolation, and utterly refusing to explain 
himself. Great was his amazement, and exuberant 
his joy, when his master returned. Toby evidently 
regarded him as a returner from another world, whom 
he had never expected to behold again. 



A GOOD FRIEND. 373 

It took several trials to teach Toby the ins and outs 
of the street-cars ; but presently he understood the 
matter, and would wait obediently while his master 
embai'ked, and then trot along cheerfully on the side- 
walk, ahead of the laboring horses, stopping at every 
corner to watch the dismounting of the passengers, 
and make sure that the figure he looked for was not 
among them. And he never seemed to tliink it at all 
strange or unfair, that he, too, was not allowed to 
ride. But once, on a Avretchedly wet night in winter, 
when Brunette was taking him home with her, she 
found the wind and rain so severe, as she toiled up 
Exchange street, that when she reached Congress, she 
stepped into a car, quite forgetting Toby for the 
moment ; and after the car started, she was amazed to 
find him comfortably lying down under the edge of 
her water-proof, as though he had been there a month. 
He was nearly concealed by her garments, and he lay 
as still as though he were dead ; but the one eye 
which he kept fixed on Brunette's face, said plainly, 
"You know I don't mind the running, but I was get- 
ting wet through ; and if you will only keep quiet, 
and say nothing, this little plan of mine will Avork 
admirably, and nobody will be harmed by it." Bru- 
nette was on thorns all the way, expecting that the 
poor dog would be roughly ejected ; but no one 
seemed to notice him, and when the end of the trij:) 
was reached, he bounded out, barking joyfully, as 
though exulting at having set at naught the rules of 
the railway company. But, queerly enough, he never 
attempted it again. 



374 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

Toby knew perfectly well when Sunday came, and 
not only slept later that morning, but evinced in vari- 
ous ways his consciousness that the exercises of the 
d:iy were to be quite different from those of week- 
days. He was generally treated to a walk with his 
master on Sundays, and in these walks he delighted ; 
but otherwise the day was rather a bore to him. He 
was a stirring business dog, and he liked the move- 
ment and excitement of week-days, when there were 
l^cople coming and going, and hurry, and bustle, and 
noise, and many feet running up and down stairs. He 
was a favorite with the girl-comijositors, and was very 
foud of them, being csi^ecially attentive to those 
wlio brought theii* lunch, instead of going homo at 
noon. Indeed, Brunette noticed sometimes, with pain, 
that he was much more fond of their boned turkey 
and sugared doughnuts than of her simple refection, 
which generally consisted of two crackers and an 
apple. Toby, like many a being with a less number of 
feet, knew which side his bread was buttered on. 
But when the temptations of lunch-time were over, it 
was by Brunette's chair, or at her feet, that he lay 
down for his afternoon nap. 

He knew when the working hours of the day were 
over for his master, as well as did that gentleman him- 
self. As soon as the last edition went to j^ress, Toby 
understood that business was finished for the day, and 
would thereafter steadfastly oppose all intrusion upon 
his master's sanctum ; even telegrajih boys, who some- 
times arrived with belated dispatches, were denied 



A GOOD FRIEND. 375 

admittance by Toby, although he had been on good 
terms with them all day. He would not attempt to 
bite or bully them, but would rise on his hind feet, 
put his paws against them, and push them away from 
the door, with a deprecating bai'k, as though saying 
" I don't Avish to be disagreeable — personally I am 
very fond of you — but you really mustn't, you 
know ! " 

Confinement to the routine of a daily newspaper 
office has often been called a dog's life, but it has also 
been many a dog's death. It is altogether probable 
that if Toby had lived in the country on a farm, 
where he would have been obliged to go after the 
cows every night, to trot to the nearest market town 
every week, and to scour the country in pursuit of 
runaway horses, oxen and sheep, whenever they might 
succeed in escaping from the pasture, he might have 
been alive to-day. But Toby was too well-fed to 
thrive without an abundance of out-of-door exercise, 
and the latter is hard to combine with a newspaper 
life. True, he sometimes accompanied the city editor 
on a devious tramp in pursuit of the bounding news- 
item ; he not infrequently assisted the collector in his 
peripatetic duties, or walked a little way Avith the 
homeward compositor, or went shopping with Bru- 
nette, when she wanted some small addition to her 
frugal wardrobe ; but altogether he did not have suf- 
ficient exercise to keep him in health. A sedentary, 
shut-up, monotonous vocation will kill even a dog. 

And before poor Toby had lived out half his days 



376 THE TRIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

he fell a victim to his devotion to business. He 
seemed a little ill one day, and altliough carefully 
tended by his master, he grew rapidly worse. One 
day he seemed desirous to go out once more into the 
open air. He was tenderly carried out and placed on 
the sidewalk, but he was too weak to utter liis usual 
cheerful bark at the passing teams. He walked slowly 
a few steps, and looked mournfully up and down the 
familiar street, as though conscious that it was for the 
last time. Then he turned toward the door, but liad 
not strength to mount the stej^s, and Avas carried in 
and laid down again uj^on his bed. He wagged his 
grateful tail faintly, gave a long sigh of weariness, 
and then 'with his faithful, patient, beautiful eyes fixed 
lovingly on his master's face, he was dead. 

It was a bitter blow to Brunette, who loved him ; 
all tlie more, perhaps, that her constant employment 
did not give her time to make or cultivate many 
human friendships. Besides, she had often been accused 
by censorious people, of loving animals more than 
l^ersons. And surely, many a human being has died 
and been buried, leaving behind him less real grief 
and heart-ache, and lonesomeness, than followed the 
death of Toby ; many a one has received, and deserved, 
less love than he, and few are held in more tender and 
grateful memory. 

Brunette could not feel that she had done her duty 
by her dead friend, until she had paid him the one 
small honor in her power, by putting on record his 
virtues, and her appreciation of them. And the eyes 



A GOOD FRIEND. 377 

of the little home circle were not ashamed of their 
tears, as she read aloud her small aud inadequate 
tribute to his memory. 

TOBY. 

He was my fondest friend — and he is dead — 
Dead in the vigorous fullness of his prime, 
Lost to my seeing for all coming time; 
Now, ere oblivion close above his head, 
Let me look back across our mingled years. 
And count how ho was worth this heart-ache and 
these tears. 

Purer devotion, steadier truth than his, 
Not even the most exacling heart could crave; 
Demanding little, all he had, he gave, 
Nor wronged his love by doubts and jealousies. 
But kept his constant faith unto the end. 
Kind, loyal, trusting, brave, a true ideal friend. 

Envy nor prejudice he never knew, 

Nor breathed a syllable of wrath or blame, 

Nor wronged by hint or sneer his neighbor's fame, 

Nor uttered aught unseemly or untrue ; 

In all his life-time there was never heard 

From his unsullied lips a base or cruel word. 

He never joined the venal, sordid race 
Of politicians, mad with selfish greed; 
He never did a vile, uncleanly deed 

By man or woman; envied no one's place. 

Nor wronged a mortal of a penny's worth; 

Should he not rank anions the rare ones of the earth ? 



378 THE TKIANGULAR SOCIETY. 

lie never sought the revels of the gay, 
Nor strayed where fatal follies spread their snare; 
lie loved the home-light, and the fireside chair, 
When daytime's crowding cares were shut away, 
And there, with all he loved in easy reach, 
lie talked with soft brown eyes, more eloquent than 
speech. 

Yet scores of wise men argue and declare 

That this, my friend, was but a pinch of dust; 
That his warm heart of constancy and trust 

Has gone out, like a bubble in the air; 

That his true soul of love and watchful care 

Is quenched, extinct and lost, and is not, anywhere. 

" III' liad no soul," they say. What was his power 
Of love, n-nicmbrance, gratitude and faith ? 
Do these not Iriumpli over time and death. 

And far outlast our life-time's little hour ? 

Affection, changeless though long cycles roll. 

Integrity and trust, — do these not make the soul V 

If these high attri))utes in sinful men 
Make up tlu; sum of immortality. 
Outlive all life and time, and land and sea, 
Unfading, deathless, — wherefore is it then. 
They are contemned by church and synagogue. 
When they inspire and warm the bosom of a dog ? 

If baser spirits last, can it be true. 

That his dissolved to nothing when he died ? 
Wherever love lives, must not his abide ? 

Where faith dwells, shall his faith not enter too ? 

True liearts are few, and heaven is not so small, 

O fond and faithful friend, but it can hold them all! 



A GOOD FRIEND. 379 

I have lost many a friend, but never one 
So patient, steadfast, and sincere as he, 
So unf orgctf ul in his constancy ; 

Ah, when at last my long day's work is done. 

Shall I not find him waiting as of yore, 

Eager, expectant, glad, to meet me at the door ? 



A PERIOD. 

Years ago, a little Portland boy, on being shown a 
painting of a twilight landscape, gazed on it awhile in 
silence, aj^parently estimating critically the foregi'ound, 
middle distance, light and shade and their effect on 
local color, background, truth to nature, perspective, 
and the disposition of values, — and then suddenly 
withdrawing his thumb from his mouth and placing it 
on a clear space of sky, he exclaimed, " There 's a first- 
rate place for a moon ! " If that little boy did not die 
young — and comparatively few 2)ersons die young in 
Portland — he is now a bearded man, busy with money- 
making or politics — perhaps a happy combination of 
both ; or if he did, he is a chubby, smooth-cheeked 
angel, with little or nothing to do. In either case, the 
recorder of these fragmentary sketches wishes heart- 
ily that he were at hand to jioint out a " first-rate 
place " for a period. The fond pen cannot find heart 
to exterminate the members of the inoffensive and 
industrious family from whose simple daily experi- 
ences it has drawn these hap-hazard pages. Besides, a 
mortality so sudden and unusual would cast a sus- 
picion of improl)ability over the whole record, since 
families are never swept away in that wholesale man- 
ner, in the healthful and salubrious vicinity of Casco 
Bay. It cannot marry them all happily off, after 
380 



THE TRIANGULAE SOCIETY. 381 

the style of novels, as they are too old or too young, 
too foolish or too wise to be disposed of in that man- 
ner. There seems no alternative but to leave them as 
it found them, busy, content, self-respecting and inde- 
pendent in their quiet and unostentatious way, minding 
their own affairs, and doing their best to keep their 
small bit of this world bright and comfortable and 
clean and happy, which, after all, is more than many 
of us do, and as much as the best need hope to 
accomplish. 



